


A Thousand Ways To Fall In Love

by LittleLynn



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: A Barduil Bagginshield dinner reservation, A Barduil Birthday, A Day In the Life Of Thranduil, A Soulmate au with a twist, A different kind of pyjamas, A drunken bowman and the ‘elfy king’, A wedding night under the stars, After battle reassurances, After the phone call, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Amnesia fic, An oasis in the forest, Awkward First Time, Bard Makes a Phone Call, Bard accidentally kisses Thranduil, Bard and Thranduil adopt an elfling, Bard and Thranduil bake a cake (while drunk), Bard and Thranduil become a 'something', Bard badly injures himself saving Thranduil, Bard decides to give dating one last try, Bard get's injured in a battle, Bard gets a new favourite outfit, Bard has a minor freak out, Bard has a nightmare, Bard has a pavlovian response to the name Dragonslayer, Bard is a put upon retail assistant and Thranduil is an asshole customer, Bard is injured in battle, Bard is moping so Thranduil fixes it, Bard knocks Thranduil out with a stray football, Bard learns Elvish and discovers exactly what Thranduil has been murmuring while he works, Bard notices Thranduil has aged even though elves are meant to be immortal and ageless, Bard pretends to know French, Bard proposes, Bard proposes and Thranduil is confused, Bard spend the day teasing Thranduil but makes it up to him later, Bard stumbles across Thranduil bathing in a pond, Bard subconsciously starts playing love songs to a beautiful stranger, Bard suffers from some drunken memory loss, Bard tells Thranduil about taking the dwarves across the lake, Bard thinks Thranduil is just an asshole until he sees him with his kids, Bard thinks he is too inferior for Thranduil but Thranduil disagrees, Bard/Thranduil/Ned, Barduil does snapchat, Cat smuggling, Cupcake shop au, Discovering a kink, Dog walking shenanigans, Drunk Dancing, Elf!Bard and Human!Thran, Elves can die from a broken heart but will Thranduil?, Firefighter!Bard Au, Florist!Bard and Tattooist!Thran, Florist!Thran and Tattooist!Bard, Foodcritic!Thrandy and chef!Bard, Forehead Kisses, Grieving, Halloween Walk, Headmaster!Thrandy Parent!Bard, Hogwarts professors au, Ice Skating, Ikea furniture is a problem child, Jewellery store and hunting store pining across the mall au, Legolas come for a visit, M/M, Making out in the cinema, Merman!Bard AU, Modern karaoke night au, Nanny!Thran works for Bard (you know where this is going), Policeman!Thran and Firefighter!Bard, Protective Bardlings, Punk Bard and Pastel Goth Thran, Recovery, Reincarnation!AU, Relcutant!Bard and an understanding Thrandy, Sabrina!Au, Sex and Marriage, Shy!Thranduil, Sigrid and her ada, Single dad feats, Slow Dancing, Snowballs and Smiles, Someone tries to poison Bard, Stranded in a broken-down elevator au, Stripper AU, The Great Goat Conspiracy, The bardlings talk to Thranduil, The incident with the unsubtly inappropriate game of pool, The tale of the Dragonslayer and the Elvenking, Thranduil and Tilda bond and Bard's heart turns to mush, Thranduil and kittens, Thranduil and the One Ring, Thranduil can't keep his hands to himself even at important meetings, Thranduil comes to reclaim something of his (and it's not the diamonds), Thranduil curling up around Bard like a cat, Thranduil gets badly injured in the battle, Thranduil gets jealous as the women of Dale attempt to attract their king, Thranduil glamours himself to make his frequent visits more discreet, Thranduil in Panties, Thranduil is hungover and bitchy, Thranduil is injured on the road, Thranduil makes a difficult decision, Thranduil makes preparations for Bard's death, Thranduil neglects to mention that he might in fact be the Elvenking, Thranduil never leaves Middle Earth and eventually Bard is reincarnated, Thranduil offers his hair for Tilda to practice braiding, Thranduil spys on Bard and realises he isn't the only one with scars, Thranduil uses his glamour to make it look like they are growing old together, Thranduil why does Elrond think we're married?, Thranduil worries about the bardlings, Thranduil's advances make Bard shy, Tilda and her ada, Tilda braids thranduil's hair into a beard, Tilda has a nightmare, University!Au Thranduil needs models for a photography project, Uptown Girl High School! AU, Valentine's Day, Vampire!Bard au, Waking up in Vegas AU, Werewolf Bard au, Why Thranduil went into Dale during the battle, bodyswap au, coffee shop au!, greaser!Bard and prep!Thranduil, have some wild sex, he's pissed until he hears about the fish, model and photographer au, modern au in which thranduil is a reclusive millionaire and legolas is homeschooled, music festival AU, protective dads, tango-ing barduil, the boat that rocked au, thranduil is feeling a little insecure, worried Bard, ‘For some reason we have to share a bed’
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-06 20:34:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 132
Words: 268,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3147755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is where I'm going to put all of my Barduil fic's that I write for tumblr.</p><p>Each chapter will be a stand alone story (they will vary in rating too, I will put it in the notes at the beginning of the chapter) and I will update the tags as new stories are added. </p><p>So if you like the look of a tag, find the chapter title that correlates with it :)</p><p> <a href="http://shadyanne.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a></p><p> <br/><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3215075">Now with a beautiful cover by froggy_freek</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hogwarts AU!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts au
> 
> Rated: T

 

“He’s such an arsehole!” Bard exclaimed, throwing himself down on one of the sofa’s in the Hufflepuff common room. Aragorn and Éowyn looked up at Bard before sharing a look between them.

“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re talking about Thranduil?” Éowyn answered.

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“Just a lucky guess.” Éowyn smirked and Bard heard Aragorn attempt to contain a snort. Bard scowled and they both did their best to look innocent – they were fooling no one.

It’s not like he talked about him that much! And even if he did it’s not like it’s his fault he’s always hanging around being all tall and annoying.

 “What’s he done now anyway?”

“We were down on the quidditch pitch for practice – like we are  _every week_. And the bastard shows up and just starts buzzing around on that stupid broom his dad brought him. I seriously think they should be banned, he’s the only one who can even afford one! Toff.  Then when practice finished, he gets this bright idea that the team should split in half and see how many points they can score against each other until one of us catches the snitch.”

“I take it he caught it before you then.”

“That’s not the point.” Bard grumbled. “And earlier today he definitely slipped something into my cauldron because I followed all the instructions perfectly there’s no way it should’ve turned that colour.”

“Are you sure? You’ve not got the best track record with potions you know.” Aragorn pointed out unhelpfully – seriously, weren’t friends supposed to unconditionally back you up?!

Besides he had been absolutely certain he’d done it right that time. Probably. Maybe not.

“Whatever.” Bard grouched, refusing to admit that he maybe might’ve added too much boomslang skin to the potion.

“Bard, aren’t you supposed to be down in the duelling room supervising the third years?” Éowyn asked, pointing at the grandfather clock in the corner that did indeed say it was 18:35 so yes that is exactly where he should be. Five minutes ago.

“Shit.” Bard muttered, scooping up his wand and running out of the common room.

It was that stupid long haired douche’s fault (to be honest ‘bitch’ was probably a more apt word to describe Thranduil). He usually had a good half hour to chill in the common room before he had to go help with the duelling club, but of course today that had been spent trying to catch the snitch before Thranduil.

He’d like to blame it on his stupid expensive broom being faster than Bard’s old battered one. But really (and Bard would die before he admitted it out loud) Thranduil was just an exceptional seeker. Now Bard was a good seeker and against the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seekers he would almost always catch the snitch first. But with Thranduil he was lucky if he won once, the other houses really didn’t stand a chance.

Bard wondered if it was because he was so tall, all long lines, giving him a better vantage point or something. But then Bard supposed he could just fly a little higher himself. Or maybe he just had really good eyesight. Bard had always thought there was something about those icy blue eyes. Not that he’d noticed them. Thranduil could take it pro if he wanted and they all knew it.

But quite annoyingly no one knew it better than Thranduil.

Having said that, as much as he might tease Bard and boast about his superior skills, he didn’t actually seem to interested in playing professionally, preferring (and excelling in) ancient runes instead. (Seriously who in their right mind preferred ancient runes to quidditch?)

Not that he was paying that much attention. Why would he, he didn’t even like the guy. And Thranduil certainly didn’t like him either.

“Sorry sorry sorry.” Bard shouted as he burst into the room the duelling club used.

They weren’t technically supposed to start without him. Bard had managed to convince the headmaster and defence against the dark arts teacher that he could safely run a duelling club. They’d agreed so long as there were three seventh year dark arts students from different houses present. So together he, Arwen and Tauriel managed the club.

So when Bard looked up and found not Tauriel but Thranduil talking to the younger students he was a bit confused.

“What’re you doing here?”

“Covering for Tauriel. I would’ve thought that was obvious.”

“Didn’t know you two were even friends.”

“We’re not. But she owed me a favour.” Thranduil said with what Bard was call a mischievous glint in his piercing blue eyes. Bard had absolutely no idea what that meant.

“How on earth is this doing you a favour?” Bard asked, surely this was doing Tauriel a favour. But Thranduil just sighed and rolled his eyes, Arwen was smiling and shaking her head at him, he had no idea what was going on.

“Right everyone.” Bard called, getting the attention of all the student. “Get yourself into pairs – preferably not someone you always pair up with, because this will work better if you don’t know what to expect. Okay good. Now practice the disarming spells we’ve looked at – and only disarming please. Then in about ten minutes you’ll get a chance to go up onto the platform in your pair and show us what you’re like.”

It was mainly second and third years in the club really, first years were too young and most of the older students were too busy, but they did occasionally show up. Anyway they all scurried off and started shooting spells at each other.

He and Arwen resumed their usual process of going round correcting various stances, wand flourishes and intonations.

“It’s okay. You’ll get it.” Bard assured to a little second year, that he thinks is called Feren, who was having trouble getting his spell to hit its target. “You’ve just got to make your hand movement slightly tighter, so it’s not shooting off to the side like that.” The kid tried again but overshot his target again.

“Try imagining that you’re wand is a fishing rod and you’re opponents hand is where you want the bait to land. This spell uses the same basic movement.” Came a baritone voice that Bard was far too familiar with.

“Like this?” The kid said before hitting his partner’s wand dead on and dislodging it from his grip.

“Precisely like that.” Thranduil commented before moving on to the next kid.

“Hey.” Bard said catching up with him. “How did you know to say that to him?”

“You realise that he is in my house and I am the prefect.” Thranduil said like this made it obvious, it didn’t, at least not to Bard.

“Yeah I know that but what’s with the random fishing knowledge?” Bard personally loved fishing, he’d do it with his dad when he went home in the summer, that was their thing, whereas magic was for him and his mum.

“I know how to fish. There is a large lake at my parents’ estate, my father does not approve of it, claims it is a muggle custom, but I find it peaceful. I often see him reading fishing magazines in the common room. I think his mother sends them to him.”

“Oh.” Was all Bard could think of to respond with. He’d never really seen this side to Thranduil before, they were normally far too busy snarking at each other to bother with anything like an actual nice conversation.

Thranduil carried on wandering around, and Bard tried desperately to stop his eyes wandering around with him. Seriously what was going on.

Eventually they had seen all of the pairs spar on the platform and it was about time for everyone to go when Arwen decided to pipe up.

“That was great everyone, but how about we get Bard and Thranduil to show you how its done? What do you think?” She grinned at Bard, who was definitely scowling, as the students turned to him hopefully.

“I don’t know–”

“Worried you’re going to lose to me as quickly as you do in quidditch?” Came Thranduil’s voice from across the room, stupid smirk firmly in place.

“As if pretty boy.” Bard grumbled back, dumping his robe onto the floor and hopping up onto the platform. Bard was a firm believer that all that swishy robe just got in the way when duelling.

Thranduil was still smirking, clearly confident he was going to win, slipping off his own robe and letting it drop to the floor before gracefully stepping up onto the platform as well. Bard wondered what it might be like to watch Thranduil slip off the rest of his clothes – and wait what?

Thranduil was already bowing to him to start the duel while Bard was still trying to pick his brain but up from the gutter it had very suddenly fallen into. He was just horny. Seriously he lived in a dorm with ten other guys it wasn’t exactly easy to so much as jerk off. That was it. He was just seriously frustrated. Absolutely nothing else going on here.

Bard quickly bowed to Thranduil and they went to their separate ends. And before Bard could even start his own spell, Thranduil’s spell was shooting towards him and knocking the wand straight out of his hand. He’d sent the spell flawlessly and non-verbally and was now cocking one of those thick eyebrows at Bard and flicking his long hair back over his shoulder.

Bard wondered how his eyebrows could be dark when his hair was so beautifully fair. Really it was like liquid silver running down his back. He sometimes wore it in a braid but Bard preferred it loose. And whoa when the hell had he even started paying attention to Thranduil’s hair let alone having preferences about it! (He knew exactly when but he wasn’t willing to admit to that right now).

And okay Bard was definitely staring and Thranduil was smirking like he was absolutely certain he was about to win. And Bard wasn’t sure he was thinking about the duel.

Bard quickly snatched his wand back up and managed to deflect Thranduil’s next spell and shoot one of his own back. It was slightly off target and made Thranduil drop his wand and stumble back slightly as it hit his arm not his hand. Bard snickered at Thranduil’s indignant expression.

“You missed.”

“Your wand is on the floor. Wasn’t that the aim?”

“Well in that case,” Bard was flat on his arse before he could even blink.

“Now that’s just not fair!” He moaned from the floor as Thranduil walked over to him.

“I don’t know, your wand seems to be on the floor.” Thranduil said leaning over him and offering him a smooth, elegant hand.

“All of me is on the floor!” Bard grumbled but he took Thranduil’s hand.

“Yes. It’s a good look on you. Stay down there, it will be less obvious when I beat you.” Thranduil teased, as he helped him up. Thranduil’s hand felt good in his thicker, rougher one and he may have forgotten to let go of it when he was on his feet.

“You were  _aiming_  for my stomach! You’re such a dick.”

 “Well if you could learn to block properly you wouldn’t have ended up on the floor.”

“You can’t aim disarming spells places other than the hand.”

“Clearly you can.” He smirked. And when had that damned smirk gone from mocking to infuriatingly hot?

“That is so not the point.”

“The point was to disarm and to only use disarming spells. I don’t see a fault.” Thranduil replied frustratingly calmly. They were standing so close now Bard could see his blue eyes twinkling.

“Oh my god shut up!”

“Okay.” Thranduil said and tugged Bard forward by his shirt to close the remaining distance between them, bringing them into a fierce kiss that did indeed successfully shut them both up.

It was a good kiss, it had just enough of an edge to it to make it interesting. Bard bit down on Thranduil’s lip and got an almost inaudible moan from it; there was a piece of information to store for later.

“That is not what I meant.” Bard grumbled, but there was no heat behind it.

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

“Not one bit.”

Bard grabbed a handful of that beautiful silver-blonde hair and resumed kiss Thranduil, running his tongue across the seam of his lips until Thranduil opened for him with a happy hum into the kiss.

“Yeah. Okay guys I think duelling club is over for today.” Arwen’s voice cut through into the little world they’d been in (and had clearly managed to forget that they were in a  _room full of students_ ).

Bard was blushing as the younger students left, Thranduil didn’t appear to care, pulling him back in to carry on kissing before the last kid had even left the room.


	2. Thranduil comes to claim something of his (and it's not the diamonds)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:
> 
> Thranduil saying I’ve come to reclaim something of mine but he’s talking about Bard instead of the diamonds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rated: G

 

Bard dragged himself out of the water, heavy coat soaked through and dragging him down, he should probably take it off, but he couldn’t afford to lose it. All they had now was what they had on their backs, if the flaming ruins of Laketown was anything to go by.

They salvaged what they could from the remains of the town, but it was not much, certainly not enough to live off. And everyone was looking to Bard to lead them, even though he could not think why, slaying a dragon was hardly proof of good leadership, just good aim.

“Where will we go?” One of the people asked him, desperation clear in her voice. He could not bring himself to say that he did not know, he needed to give them hope, or they would have no chance.

First his mind went to Thranduil, but he quickly forced himself to think of elsewhere. Thranduil did not help those outside of his realm not unless he cared for them personally. Back when they had been, well, whatever it was that they had been – Bard didn’t like to think about it, not since he had walked away from Thranduil and had not gone back – Thranduil had happily sent gifts of food to Bard.

Baskets of bread and wine and vegetables; more than they needed really, Bard had often felt guilty and shared as much as he could with his neighbors and friends. That winter had been particularly harsh, and the frost lasted into the spring. The people of Laketown had been desperate then too, and Thranduil had refused Bard’s plea.

“But you have plenty! You can spare enough.”

“And what then? When will it stop? The people of Laketown are always just scraping by and I will not allow them to become a constant drain; especially when it will just pour into the pockets of the master regardless. They will endure, they always have, surviving even after the arrival of Smaug. Besides, other realms are not my concern.”

“You will not help?”

“No.”

“It is nice to know how low you value our lives.”

“I was obviously not speaking about you Bard, you know my feelings towards you.”

“Do I? Because you deem me worthy to send me food? Because you don’t think I deserve to starve? Well, I would hate to be a drain on your meager resources, you can keep them from now on.”

“Bard don’t be foolish, you need it and I am happy to give it to you.”

“Laketown needs it! Not just I!” Bard had shouted, storming out of the room.

“Where are you going? Why do you go to leave? I would have you stay, I do not like it when you are gone.”

“Yes, well, I have seen the value you place on human life and I do not like it.”

“Bard, wait! You know the value I place on you. I do not see what I have done! When will you return?”

“When you realize why I am leaving.”

Bard hadn’t been back to Thranduil’s beautiful halls since; he did not like to think about it. He refused to love someone who cared so little for the suffering of others. So he denied his heart and stayed away. And when the next day a basket of food had arrived, he had sent it back. There hadn’t been another since.

That had been ten months ago.

So instead Bard did the only thing he could think of, he led the survivors of Laketown towards Erebor. They needed hope and it was all he could think of. Even though his head told him that Thorin would not help them either, after all, he hadn’t listened to Bard’s pleas of what waking the dragon would do to them. Maybe he would honor his word, maybe guilt would sway him.

At least in Dale they could find shelter. But their food was running low, they would not survive three days, even with the heavy rationing Bard was instigating. He would go to Thorin in the morning, although his gut told him it would be in vain, there was a sickness on that mountain and Thorin’s line had always been susceptible to it.  

As it stood he didn’t need Thorin to help feed his people.

The next morning Bard awoke to find an entire army of elves at their door, with carriages laden with food and drink. And Thranduil astride his elk looking at him. Bard remember that elk, remembered he and Thranduil riding the elk out into the wood on occasion, to spend a long day in seclusion for all their cares accept from each other. Bard was hit by how much he missed it. How much he missed them.

His heart pounded in his chest, no doubt because he was looking at something he loved – and loved still – that he thought long lost, never to be seen again.

“My lord Thranduil, you have saved us.” Bard thanked, taking a tentative step towards his old lover. Towards the person who held his heart even now, no matter how he might have denied it, denied itself.

“Your gratitude is misplaced.” Bard knew he looked confused, Thranduil was clearly who was to think here, without him he had no doubt they would have starved. Thranduil had saved them all.

“I came only to reclaim something of mine.” Thranduil finished, eyes trained on Bard in a way that was almost hopeful. Bard had never seen him wear that look before, it was almost apologetic.

It may have been ten months, and what was that to an ancient elf really? But Bard knew exactly what his gesture was, and exactly what he was here to reclaim.

He also knew that Thranduil had been successful.  


	3. Modern Stripper Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SUPER CRACK/ SMUT PROMPT: Modern AU where Thranduil is a stripper and Bard is a bartender that likes to stare.
> 
> Rated: E

 

Bard should probably get a new job. It just wasn’t really great for a single dad with three kids to be working behind the bar in a strip club every night. But since the master from his previous job had finally fired him for his backchat – not that it wasn’t always warranted, the master was a bastard – this was the only job he had been able to get.

It paid well enough, and Sigrid didn’t mind holding down the fort at home while he was working. All in all, ‘The Woodland Realm’ was a pretty classy place, for a strip joint anyway. And the manager, Thorin was alright so long as he and his boyfriend weren’t fighting, Bilbo had a way of mellowing him. And while some of the customers left something to be desired, everyone who worked there was great. So Bard stuck around.

Although that was totally not the reason he stuck around.

The real reason he stuck around was walking gracefully onto the stage right now.

Now all the strippers the worked here was stunning, tall and almost ethereal in their beauty, but Thranduil was something else entirely. Some people jokingly called him the king of the woodland realm, but honestly it was true.

Bard reckoned it was his haughty arrogance, the way he clearly did not care for any of the customers. Everything about him let you know that he was  _better_ than you. He suspected that was what titillated the audience so much, they wanted to be the one who caught his eye. But they never did.

Thranduil kept himself detached from them, and somehow, even though it really shouldn’t, it worked. Bard didn’t doubt that no one else could pull it off.

He was all long limbs and alabaster skin, and he moved with easy, measured elegance, like everything he did was very, very deliberate. And Bard guessed that it probably was. It wasn’t an act either, it wasn’t something he just did for the stage, it was just the way Thranduil moved – Bard found it hypnotic.

His face was sharp yet soft, icy blue eyes that held a penetrating gaze – an arrogance and a challenge in them that the customers just ate up (well, and Bard). Above them were thick eyebrows. His hair was long, tied in a loose long braid down his back, and such a fair shade of blonde it was almost silver. Everything about him was breath-taking, so Bard couldn’t help that he stared.

They’d spoken a couple of times, not much, but enough for Bard to discover that he was apparently incapable of forming proper sentences around him. Much to Thranduil’s amusement, if his smirk was anything to go by.

Thranduil started moving with the music, slender hands gliding over his still clothed limbs. And that was the thing about Thranduil’s performances, they were so  _sensual_. It wasn’t like a normal gaudy strip dance to ‘pour some sugar on me’, no, Thranduil didn’t go in for that.

His dances were a sultry, maddeningly slow removal of layers. So when he finally revealed some perfect smooth skin, you were already more turned on than any of the other acts could manage by their finale. Or well that’s what Bard assumed, going by his own reaction.

Bard should probably be fired, he became the world’s most useless bartender whenever Thranduil performed. If they were busy Kili, who worked behind the bar with him, usually smacked him upside the head to get his attention, and if they weren’t he just snorted at Bard and his hopeless crush, and picked up the slack as Bard all but drooled on the bar.

Luckily tonight was not one of their busier nights, so Bard was free to drool over Thranduil.

He had slipped off his waistcoat, letting it fall down his back and pool on the floor, body moving in perfect time to the low, slow song. Long delicate fingers started dragging down his chest, slowly unbuttoning every one down the front of his dress shirt. Steadily revealing a smooth, toned chest and pert nipples that Bard just wanted to get his mouth on.

 As he let it fall from his shoulders and join his shoes and waistcoat, his eyes flickered up from below his long lashes and caught Bards. Bard felt frozen. There was no way Thranduil didn’t know he stared, no way he didn’t know about his pretty tragic crush. But Thranduil never made eye contact for more than a second with anyone while he was performing. And yet his eyes were locked with Bard’s.

There was a teasing glint Thranduil’s eyes that made Bard swallow thickly, feeling himself heating up. Thranduil kept eye-contact as he removed his belt, dragging it though the loops on his trousers and letting it drop from his hand.

Bard couldn’t help the way his eye’s flickered down for a second, watching the way it fell to the floor, when he looked back, Thranduil had a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

He reached behind him and released his braid, running his fingers through his hair and letting it fall around his bare shoulders. His head fell back as he moved his hands over his neck and chest, following the long, irresistible lines of his body until reaching his trousers.

He started on the button of his trousers and the way he was looking at Bard made him hungry, it was like Thranduil was stripping just for him. In one smooth movement he let them drop down his perfect legs, pooling around his ankles and stepping elegantly out of them.

He was simply  _gorgeous_. Now in only his tight black boxer briefs, that left very little to the imagination, and contrasted his pale skin perfectly. But it would be left to the imagination, no matter how much Thranduil teased at the hem of him underwear, he never took them off – he didn’t need to, the whole room was already eating out of the palm of his hand.

Bard licked his lips, throat dry and Thranduil winked at him, before final looking away and staring his slow walk off the stage; giving the room the perfect view of his tight ass. Bard’s eye’s followed him the whole way.

The rest of the night went by in a bit of a daze. Caught between willing away his boner and replaying Thranduil’s performance in his head. Knowing the bastard he was just getting a special kind of glee by teasing Bard out about his crush. But Bard had felt like he was doing it for him, not to toy with him. Not that he would mind being toyed with by him. At all.

Soon enough the customers were gone and they were tidying up the bar, getting everything ready to be locked up so everyone could get home.

“Can you do the final sweep and lock up? I’m supposed to be up early tomorrow and it’s getting pretty late.” Kili asked, but he was trying to hold back a smile or a laugh, but maybe that was just to do with whatever he was doing tomorrow.

“Yeah, no problem.” Bard replied.

The final sweep was just to check that everyone, staff and customer, was out before locking the door. Occasionally there was someone in the toilets or a performer asleep in their dressing room.

Well, Bard found a performer in his dressing room, but he was certainly not asleep.

“So,” Thranduil began from where he was draped across the sofa in his room, still only clad in his black boxer briefs. “I was getting bored of waiting for you to do something. So tonight I decided to take matters into my own hands.”

Bard’s mouth was definitely hanging open at the sight before him and his hand had a death grip on the door handle. Thranduil smirked that infuriating smirk at him, eyes moving down his body slowly, smirk becoming smug when he noticed the no doubt obvious and growing bulge in Bard’s trousers. What! The only person he’s been fantasising about for almost a year was sprawled out almost naked on a sofa, and appeared to have been waiting for him.

“Well? Would you like me to help you with that?” He enquired with a quirked brow, voice letting Bard know that he knew exactly what his answer was going to be.

Bard surged forward and pulled Thranduil into a kiss so fierce it was almost biting, not that Thranduil seemed to mind, sitting up on the sofa to get a better angle. His tongue tracing the seam of Bard’s lips as his hands grabbed at his shirt, pushing the jacket off his shoulders. Bard opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along Thranduil’s, getting a handful of his hair and giving it an experimental tug.

Thranduil moaned into his mouth – and wasn’t that something he could get used to – and started scrabbling at the fly on Bard’s jeans. Bard gasped and straightened up a little as Thranduil took hold of his hard cock, long fingers wrapping around his shaft and tugging experimentally.

“Off.” Thranduil ordered, pulling at his shirt with his spare hand, Bard promptly ripped off his shirt. “Mmm. Much better.” Thranduil murmured, leaning forward to kiss and suck at Bard’s chest and stomach, licking at his abs.

Bard groaned at Thranduil sucked a bruise into his hip, moaning and biting at him slightly when Bard pulled at his hair again. His lips travelled lower, following Bard’s trail of dark hair down to his crotch, where he began placing wet, open mouthed kisses at the base of his cock.

Thranduil practically buried his face in Bard’s crotch and started mouthing at his balls, as his hands pushed Bard’s trousers down his thighs. Kissing and licking his way back up Bard’s cock, he looked up at him through those long eyelashes, painting a pretty irresistible picture, before taking Bard all the way down until the tip of his cock was nudging into his throat.

“Jesus Christ!” Bard panted, trying to keep himself upright.

The hand he had in Thranduil’s silky hair tightened, making Thranduil moan around his cock, vibrating around him. God, Bard had been on and off hard since Thranduil’s performance, he was running the risk of this being over very quickly. Especially if he kept do  _that_  with his tongue.

Thranduil bobbed his head, sucking harder at the head when he went up and letting it bump at the back of his throat when he went back down. His tongue was doing  _things_  that Bard couldn’t even explain because he was so caught up in the sensation of it. Not to mention the fact that Thranduil was moaning around his cock almost constantly, as if he was the one who was getting the best blow job of his life.

A one of Thranduil’s hands reached to stroke at his balls again, Bard felt himself on the edge. He used the hand in Thranduil’s soft hair to pull him back and off his cock gently, before leaning down and kissing him thoroughly, tasting himself on his tongue.

“I wasn’t done.” Thranduil commented with a raised eyebrow, Bard could feel his lips pulling up at the corners, Thranduil sounding as though he was talking about a plate of desert, not a blow job.

“Well  _I_  was about to be.” He murmured into his mouth.

“That was my aim, you know.” Thranduil pointed out, biting on Bard’s lower lip and tugging.

“Yes, but I’m not nearly done with you yet.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I think it’s about time I finally get you out of these.” Bard said, pulling at the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

He rubbed the palm of his hand over the bulge in Thranduil’s underwear, the was a wet patch from where his dick was leaking pre-come, and the fact that he was this turned on from just giving head made Bard’s own dick jump a little.

Thranduil whined and bucked up into Bard’s hand, not getting the friction he needed and pulling Bard down on top of him so they were both lying along the sofa, Bard kicking off his trousers as he went.

Thranduil rolled his hips up against Bard’s, panting into each other’s mouths as Bard reached between them and rid Thranduil of his underwear. He sat back between Thranduils legs (to a whine and a pair of grabby hands that he would bet Thranduil would deny forever) so that he could drink in the sight beneath him.

Thranduil’s hair was a mess and yet somehow also perfect, he was dishevelled and already looked debauched. His lips were red and swollen, hanging open obscenely. His body was lithe and beautiful, not a single blemish on imperfection anywhere on him. His cock was long and leaking against his stomach.

Bard couldn’t really believe that he was his, at least for tonight, hopefully for the foreseeable future.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare, or are you going to get back down here?”

Bard answered by diving back down and sealing Thranduil’s red mouth with his own before attacking his neck and rubbing his beard along his pale neck, which Thranduil seemed completely on board with, his nails raking down Bard’s back.

“God. Do you know how long I’ve wanted you.” Bard mumbled.

“Mmm, I know.” Thranduil replied cockily, Bard buried his soft laugh in his neck, he didn’t know what other response he had expected really. “About the same amount of time I’ve waited for you to do something about it.” Thranduil continued and Bard practically growled. To think they could’ve been doing this for  _months_.

“Do you have anything?” Bard panted as they rutted against each other.

“No. This was, somewhat spontaneous.” Thranduil answered between heavy breaths, sounding frustrated.

Bard licked one of his palms, holding it out for Thranduil to wet it as well – and that was definitely a sensation he was filing away for every, including Thranduil’s darkened eyes as he did it, pupils practically swallowing all the icy blue.

Bard wrapped his hand around the both of them as best he could as he locked his mouth back over Thranduil’s. They kissed deep and hard and biting as Bard pumped his hand. Before long Thranduil’s hand joined his own, rubbing his palm over the heads.

“After this. I’m going to take you home with me. And I’m going to fuck you properly.” Bard growled into his ear, biting at its lobe then sucking on his neck, making Thranduil whimper at his words and ministrations.

It wasn’t long before they were fucking up into their hands, rhythm growing erratic as they both got close. Bard tugged on Thranduil’s hair, making him moan and bare his neck further, and with one hard bite into the join of neck and shoulder, Thranduil was shouting his name and shooting between them, Bard following quickly after.

They lay together, catching their breath, Bard wiped them down with whichever article of clothing he had grabbed.

“I want you to know that I would like this not to be a one night thing.” Came Thranduil’s voice a little while later, his fingers carding through Bard’s dark hair, he sounded almost vulnerable, or at least, as close to it as a person like Thranduil would ever allow himself to get.

“Good. ‘Cause neither do I.” Bard replied with conviction, he smiled when he felt Thranduil relax beneath him.

The next day, Thorin was glad they had finally got their shit together, but pretty pissed about the marks coving Thranduil’s neck. Thranduil smirked, always happy to be pissing off Thorin.

And Bard couldn’t help the smug smile that came over his face. 


	4. Thranduil and Tilda bond and Bard's heart turns to mush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thranduil and Tilda bond and Bard's heart turns to mush
> 
> Rated: G

 

The sight of Thranduil sat atop his opulent throne, talking down in his authoritative way to his subordinates, was somewhat juxtaposed by the little girl perched in his lap and smiling up at him.

Bard watched from the corner of the throne room, leaning back against one of the beautiful wood-carved columns, a smirk playing on his lips at the poor elf addressing Thranduil and trying to make sense of the unexpected image in front of him.

"My Lord Thranduil, we have, uh." The elf stuttered as Thranduil didn’t even bother to lift his head from where he was gliding a comb through Tilda’s soft hair.

"I did not summon you here for you to stand before me and look gormless. Or is a simple report suddenly too difficult for you. I am sure there are plenty of others who would manage." Thranduil rebuked, as he started to braid Tilda’s hair, careful not to pull it.

"Apologies my lord. We cleared the southern boarders of the orc pack that had ventured there."

"I trust they will not be returning."

"No. Although Tauriel does warn that the Ungoliants will keep returning unless we kill them at their source in Dol Guldur."

"I am aware of Tauriel’s position on the matter. Leave." Thranduil dismissed; his attention never moving from Tilda’s hair, where he finished his neat braid, not even looking up as the elf bowed and left.

All things considered, Bard thought that the elf dealt with the sight of his severe king, simultaneously braiding a little girl’s hair and sternly demanding his report quite well.

By the time a second elf had arrived and left again, trying hard not to stumble and appear shocked as Thranduil paused from reading a book to Tilda just long enough to hear what he needed before resuming the story, not even bothering to verbally dismiss the elf, Bard was smiling like an idiot.

He left Thranduil and Tilda to it, glad that they were so smitten with each other and managing to only be a tiny bit jealous that Thranduil was hoarding all of his little girl’s attentions (and indeed vice versa).

Especially when a few hours later he watched as Tilda fell asleep in his lovers arms, and Thranduil lightly carried her bundled up in his arms all the way to her bedroom, before tucking her in and softly kissing her goodnight.

It was impossible to be at all jealous of anything when your heart was a puddle on the floor.

And when Thranduil walked over to the doorway where he was watching from, he pulled him in for a slow, sweet kiss.

He couldn’t quite believe how lucky he had gotten.


	5. Modern Karaoke Night Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> modern au: thranduil’s friends force him to go to a karaoke night with them and after a few beers he’s on stage singing “blank space” by taylor swift and he dedicates it to the “handsome dark haired fella in the corner” who has been staring at him the whole evening. when he comes back to his table the handsome fella who is obviously bard buys him a drink
> 
> Rating: T (but could probably be G tbh)

“I’m just saying, if you kept your head down a bit more, you’d run into a lot less trouble with Alfrid and Braga.” Percy told Bard.

It was true of course, Bard was constantly saying things he knew he shouldn’t at work. Especially to Braga and Alfrid who were technically his supervisors. But they were just such arseholes Bard normally couldn’t help himself.

“I know but the way I see it someone has got to say something. The way they treat the employee’s is completely out of order, they could probably be sued for something if anyone had the time or money to hire a lawyer and do it.”

“Yeah, but until then you’re still an employee. And the Master is just looking for an excuse to give you the boot.”

“I know, but–”

“Can you afford to lose this job?” Percy asked, but they both knew the answer.

“No.” Bard groaned.

“Exactly. Now I’m all for you – and me for that matter – looking for other employment. But until you actually have it lined up and ready to go, you need to keep your head down and keep this one.”

Bard sighed but Percy was completely right, the pay was shit and the work was hard, but it put dinner on the table, just, so he couldn’t just quit. He had had plans to open up and archery school once, but you needed money to do that.

He could probably get a job as a mechanic in a garage, or maybe as a farm hand somewhere, manual labour was what he was good at. In fact he should probably start looking, he was bound to get the sack sooner or later for something, and he hated it there anyway.

But it was all hassle, and it was difficult to find the time when you were raising three kids all by yourself. Between his work and the kids’ school schedules, Bard had no idea when he would go job hunting.

Sigrid would probably help out, she’d be able to drive soon, she could have the car and maybe pick up Bain and Tilda, giving him a bit of time to ask around about jobs locally. It was a pretty small town, and he couldn’t afford a commute, but he was well liked so maybe he would find something.

It was only half past eight, but he and Percy were sitting in a pub, nursing their beers. It was still quite early in the evening, but the only time he and Percy ever got the chance was when Percy’s wife, Mary, was willing to watch the kids – and given that in total there were seven of them, she didn’t do it often.

Not that any of the kids were badly behaved, in fact at this point Bain could probably be left alone, and Sigrid definitely could. But it made Bard feel better to know that they were with a friend and not by themselves, either way Bard and Percy knew that they should probably be back before half nine at the latest so that Bard could take his brood home and Percy could help with his littler ones.

And as usual, they were perfectly on schedule. They were both nearing the end of their first beer, would order their second and after that leave for the walk home, as it should be around quarter past nine. By this point they were a pretty well-oiled machine.

But then something Bard had not anticipated walked into the pub.

He was tall, all pale skin and long limbs that moved with easy, measured grace. His hair was long and almost silver, not a hair of it out of place despite the fact that Bard was pretty sure it was still windy out. But his eyebrow were dark and thick and just above eyes of an icy blue that seemed to almost spark like stars were trapped in them. His face was somehow sharp yet soft at the same time.

Bard had been happily attracted to both men and women for as long as he could remember, but never before had the word beautiful seemed to fit a man so perfectly. Because that was most defiantly what this man was.

And yet, despite this beauty, there was absolutely nothing fragile about him. His whole demeanour was haughty and arrogant, and yet there was also a challenge written in there somewhere. Bard couldn’t take his eyes off of him.

The pub was still quite quiet, or at least, quiet enough to hear bit of conversation from the group the man – god? Adonis? – had come in with. From what Bard could hear it sounded like he had been forced by his friends to come out with them for karaoke night, although just but looking at him, Bard knew that it would be pretty difficult to force this man into doing anything he didn’t really want to do.

Bard watched the man (staring, he was definitely staring), his every movement was purposeful and elegant. You’d almost think he was a king from the way he carried himself, unapologetic, sophisticated and something just a little bit regal.

He inclined his head towards the barman and ordered himself a drink without having to push and call for the barman’s attention, something about him was just commanding, and a beer was in his hand not thirty seconds later.

“Bard are you even listening to me?”

“What?”

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Sorry.” Bard had the good grace to say, this really was supposed to be their night to relax and chat.

“The blonde one?” Percy asked with a raised eyebrow.

Bard nodded, managing not to blush, eyes finding the tall blonde again – he wasn’t exactly hard to find, he’d stand out anywhere and the pub still wasn’t very busy. He watched the long column of his smooth throat as he took a slow sip of his beer.

Bard’s eye’s flicked back up to the man’s face where he was met by piercing blue eyes and a knowing smirk. He quickly ducked his head back to his own drink. Now he was definitely blushing.

“Well I can’t fault your taste. But he looks a little high maintenance don’t you think?” 

Bard shrugged, maybe he did look high maintenance, he didn’t care. He was still the most enticing thing Bard had ever seen.

Percy and Bard ordered their second beers – it took way more effort to get the barman’s attention than it had for the tall blonde man. People were starting karaoke as well, which was either surprisingly good or absolutely terrible, but pretty amusing overall.

As the man drank his way through multiple beers he seemed to loosen up and Bard heard strings of musical laugher reaching him more and more often.

And he only got caught staring five more times, which considering the frequency of the stares, could’ve been worse. And he was always met with glinting eyes and an increasingly mischievous smirk, so he didn’t even mind getting caught.

“If you can drag yourself away, we should probably think about making a move.” Percy said, checking his watch.

Bard sighed but nodded his head as it was past nine. But then the man’s group started cheering loudly and Bard noticed that the man was heading up to the karaoke stage. Percy rolled his eyes but settled back in his chair, Bard was grateful, he really didn’t want to miss this.

“Hello.” The man said when he reached the microphone, his voice was deeper and richer than Bard expected, making him somehow even more attractive. “I think I’m going to dedicate this to the handsome dark haired fella in the corner.” He winked looking straight at Bard, Bard blushed, the ‘who’s been staring at me all evening’ went unsaid between them.

He broke into ‘Blank Space’ by Taylor Swift and Bard was surprised again by how well he could sing, something incredibly cheeky and dare he say sassy about his performance. Looking directly at Bard as he sang ‘oh my god, look at that face, you look like, my next mistake. Love’s a game, wanna play?’

Bar felt bold and winked, the man licked his lips. He definitely wanted to play, but he had zero intentions of being a mistake.

The song wound down, both of them outright staring at each other towards the end – eye-fucking would probably be a fairly accurate term. 

“I’ll watch your kids this evening, but you need to be there to pick them up by ten tomorrow.” Percy said, drawing on his coat, Bard went to protest but Percy gave him a pointed look.

“Thanks.” He conceded. They both knew he’s been lonely, he couldn’t even remember how long it had been since he was even remotely interested in someone.

“Yeah, thank me later, just go make the most of it.” Percy said heading out the door with a clap to his shoulder.

Bard headed over to the bar and ordered two drinks, turning on his stool to track the man with his eyes, he was already walking towards Bard.

“Drinking both of those yourself?” He asked slipping elegantly into the stool next to Bard, they both knew he that he knew the second one was for him.

“I was rather hoping you’d join me actually. Am I going to be disappointed?” Bard enquired playfully.

“I seriously hope not.” He replied, picking up and taking a drink from the beer Bard had got him. Bard watched his throat as he swallowed, he smirked smugly at Bard’s staring again. 

“Bard.” He introduced offering his hand.

“Thranduil.” Was the name he got in return, it suited him perfectly.

He took Bard’s hand in his delicate, smooth one, but instead of stroking it, he turned it over in his hand and stroked over his pulse point. It shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, Bard swallowed thickly.

Thranduil leaned forward and murmured into Bard’s ear.

“So tell me Bard, are you really interested in that beer, or would you rather get out of here, right now.”

“Do you really need to ask?” Bard muttered back before catching his lips in a quick fierce kiss and practically dragging him out the door.


	6. Forehead Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crown and forehead kisses for Thranduil
> 
> Rating: G

 

It had been a long day. Two separate orc packs had come across the borders to the northeast, while the southern boarders were still being almost constantly swarmed by Ungoliants. Thranduil had finally concede to Tauriel and allowed her to take a contingent of elves into Dol Guldur to attempt to kill them at their source.

But while they were gone he had received word of the orc packs to the northeast, forcing him to send out even more of his men. They had won, of course, but not without loss – and that always took its toll on Thranduil, when they were alone he did not bother to guard his expression, and Bard could see the exhaustion there.

It was only made worse by the fact that Tauriel’s force were not back yet, nor had Thranduil heard any word from them. In the grand scheme of things, they had not actually been gone very long, not even any longer than would be expected. But it had been a long day.

Bard watched as a drained Thranduil sat himself on the edge of his large bed, carved from the finest trees in a pattern that mirrored his throne. He shoulders slumped in a way he would never allow them in front of his subjects, he did not worry about showing weakness around Bard anymore.

Bard walked around to stand between the vee of Thranduil’s long elegant legs, reaching and taking one of his delicate hands in his own, running a thumb over his comfortingly.

“I need to go out and look for the troop down in Dol Guldur.” Thranduil sighed, voice strained, betraying his fatigue from the day.

“You need to sleep.” Bard corrected gently, squeezing his hand. “And have they been gone longer than you would expect? Dol Guldur is not exactly close.”

“…No.” Thranduil admitted wearily.

“Then you will wait till morning.” Bard directed with a soothing hand running across the Elvenking’s cheek.

“A king does not always have the luxury to wait.” Thranduil objected weakly, trying to stand, not liking doing noting when his people could be in trouble and desperate to appear as a strong king, even now.

Bard gently held his shoulders, not allowing him to stand up, he needed to rest. Thranduil did not protest again, Bard had not failed to take care of him yet.

“Aye. But you said yourself they have not been gone too long yet.” Thranduil nodded slowly, tiredly agreeing with Bard’s words, too worn-thin for stubbornness. 

“Besides.” Bard continued, stroking his hands up the sharp sides of the elf’s face, delicately removing his crown and setting it carefully on the table top. “You don’t always have to be the king with me. My heart is already yours.”

He tilted Thranduil’s chin with his hand and placed soft kisses against his forehead, before smoothing his brows with his thumbs.

“I think you should sleep now.” Bard advised tenderly.

Thranduil nodded gingerly in agreement and pulled Bard down into a sweet kiss before collapsing against his silken sheets.

Bard smiled and tucked the already sleeping king under his covers before slipping in behind him and holding him as they slept.

It had been a long day. But Bard would be there at the end of it for as long as he could.


	7. Thranduil can't keep his hands to himself, even at important meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: bard and thranduil are at an important politics meeting with the dwarves and everything is very serious and proffesional except thranduil keeps touching bard’s legs and other places under the table and thinks it’s hilarious when bard blushes and tries to keep a straight face
> 
> Rated: M

 

Bard didn’t mind the meetings with the dwarves, as the King of Dale he was technically supposed to be there, but they all knew he was really there at act as a mediator between Thranduil and the dwarves. At least Dain was in the Ironhills at the moment, which meant they were dealing with Balin instead, which was _much_ easier.

Well, as easy as dwarves and an elf could get anyway.

It was going very well, it always went better with Balin and without Dain, but still, this was surprising. He and Thranduil were sat down one side of the long, wide stone table – really far closer to one another than they needed to be, but Thranduil seemed to prefer having Bard’s side pressing against him – and bard was hardly about to deny him. The dwarves – what survived of Thorin’s company – were sat along the other side.

Thranduil was, for the most part, agreeing with what the dwarves were saying – which was a shocker to say the least, the bastard normally protested some things just to get a rise out of the dwarves. But today he was happy to go along with it all, most of it was just renewing old agreements for the New Year and writing it up properly.

But still, Bard was suspicious, he was especially suspicious of the little glint in Thranduil’s eye, that never meant good things (that’s a lie, it normally meant _great_ things, but this was so not the place for that look), maybe that was why Thranduil was agreeing so easily, he wanted to get back to Dale where they could be alone.

Thranduil was motioning with one hand that what Balin had just said was fine and to continue, while his other hand dropped onto Bard’s thigh underneath the table. Now that wasn’t too uncommon an occurrence, but Bard had to supress a blush anyway, he’d never get used to the free way that Thranduil was affectionate with him.

And okay that _that_ was a little more affection than was appropriate. Bard startled when Thranduil’s hand moved up his thigh. Balin gave Bard a questioning look, not doubt about the look that he had no doubt was coving his face, Thranduil squeezed his upper thigh to keep him still.

“Everything okay? There shouldn’t be anything there that is unacceptable to you or the peoples of Dale?” Balin asked, referring to what he’d just said (as if Bard had heard) and confirming that no, he could not see where Thranduil’s hand was.

“No everything’s fine. Please, continue.” Bard said, schooling his features into something appropriate for a serious and professional meeting.

Thranduil, the bastard, looked delighted and had a mischievous smirk playing on the corners of his lips.

Balin carried on uneventfully for a few minutes, but when Thranduil started lightly disputing something about trade routes and quantities, his hand started rhythmically squeezing and rubbing circles into the inside of his thigh.

Balin looked at him, and Bard just nodded, he could’ve been agreeing to anything because he had absolutely no idea what anyone was saying, too busy trying not to focus on Thranduil’s ministrations and to keep his face stoic. Not to mention the effort it was taking to breath normally.

There was absolutely nothing he could do to stop the way his dick was reacting though, hardening slowly as Thranduil’s hand got maddeningly close to it.

Bard grit his teeth and answered a couple of questions from Dwalin about the ‘open door policy’ they had between Erebor and Dale, the residents free to move between the cities as they pleased, it worked well for them since both cities were nowhere near capacity.

Bard felt like he was getting himself under control again as the negotiation continued.

So that was when Thranduil dragged his long fingers right across the bulge in his trousers.

Bard gasped and jerked half out of his chair.

“Bard? Are you alright?” Balin asked looking concerned by the way Bard was half standing.

“Yeah. Sorry, um, cramp.” Bard finished lamely, sitting back in his chair, glad he hadn’t shot up high enough for his hard-on to become obvious. He was hoping he might be wearing enough layers that you wouldn’t see it unless you were looking for it.

“Are you sure?” Thranduil asked, voice innocent, Bard glared, “You do look a little flushed.” He continued, teasing just light enough that Bard was probably the only one who noticed it in his tone.

“I’m fine.” Bard replied, hoping it didn’t sound forced, Thranduil smirked slightly and put his hand straight back on his thigh, almost immediately resuming rubbing at the inside, Bard couldn’t help the way his legs spread slightly to accommodate him.

Thranduil’s mouth had the ghost of a pleased smile on them. The dwarves were all completely oblivious to the non-verbal exchange that just when on on the other side of the table.

Bard felt his face heat up as Thranduil moved his hand across his crotch again, but he managed not to move this time, forcing himself to keep a straight face. Although at this point there was absolutely nothing he could do about the way his cheeks were reddening (frankly he was surprised any blood was flowing in that direction at all).

“You are looking a bit worse for wear, master Dragonslayer.” Oin, the one with the ear trumpet, commented, and well, Bard was feeling a little light-headed by this point, but it wasn’t because he was ill.

“No matter, we shan’t be much longer.” Balin assured, blissfully unaware of what Thranduil’s hand was doing, Bard managed a strained nod and choked off another gasp when Thranduil squeezed him through the fabric of his clothes.

The dwarves rushed through the last few points, no doubt concerned about the way Bard’s knuckles were going white as he made fists as Thranduil’s hand rested over him.

“Well I think that is quite enough for one day.” Thranduil announced, rising gracefully from his chair – and taking both hands with him (Bard was conflicted between being glad and wanting him back).

“I feel I should be taking you home.” Thranduil continued with that glint in his eye, Bard couldn’t wait to get home.

“Yes, that looks to be a good idea.” Balin agreed, completely oblivious to Thranduil’s actual meaning. “I hope it is nothing serious, Master Bard.” He finished with a nod.

“Oh, I’m sure I can think of something to make him feel better.” Thranduil smirked, helping Bard up and subtly shielding the situation in his trousers with his own body.

“Ah yes, the wonders of Elvish medicine.” Balin smiled, completely missing Thranduil’s real meaning again, Bard had to supress a snort.

Thranduil led Bard out of the mountain, holding his hand and keeping him close behind him – Bard new Thranduil liked the proximity, but this also had the added bonus of keeping the bulge in Bard’s trousers out of sight.

When they got outside Bard smacked Thranduil upside the head a gave him a half-hearted glare.

Thranduil just laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.


	8. Bard learns Elvish and discovers exactly what Thranduil has been murmuring while he works

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sidlescully said:
> 
> prompt: thranduil whispering dirty things in elvish to bard (maybe bard doesn't know what he's saying and then he learns it and finally understands)
> 
> Rated: T

 

 

It had become a pretty common occurrence for Thranduil to murmur things in Elvish, Bard didn’t know what most of them meant, but he liked the sound. It was sometimes in bed, sometimes just a phrase tagged onto the ends of sentences, and sometimes it was just randomly in the middle of the day.

Thranduil did it quiet often while Bard was fixing things around Dale – there was still a nauseating amount of work to be done, even though it had been months – Thranduil liked to pretend that was why he visited so much, but they both knew (and probably the whole city by this point was also well aware) that that was definitely not the reason.

It’s not that they’d been rubbing everyone’s faces in their relationship, but they hadn’t bothered hiding it either. And quite surprisingly, Thranduil had turned out to be a rather affectionate lover – inside and outside of the bedroom.

He liked to take Bard’s hand just to hold it in his own when they were walking through the city. He liked to rest his beautiful head on Bard’s shoulder if they were seated near each other. He liked to hold and be held after they had sex (and he liked a whole lot of other intimate things during sex, but Bard wasn’t about to distract himself thinking about that right now).  

Because lately, Bard had been getting Tauriel to teach him some Elvish. Not the whole language extensively, just the phrases Bard heard Thranduil use. It started as he began to recognise small phrases Thranduil used a lot, and wanted to know what they meant.

“Tauriel, what does _Meleth nín_ mean?” Bard had asked, probably almost a month ago now, trying to not completely butcher the language (although no matter how he tried it would never sound as beautiful from his lips as it did from Thranduil’s).

“Why do you ask?” She had replied, but there had been the beginnings of a soft smile.

“Because Thranduil calls me that sometimes. I was wondering what it meant.”

“I think you know what it means.” Tauriel had said knowingly, and Bard was pretty sure that he did, but he would still like to know for sure.  

“Still.”

“It means ‘my love’” She had answered, Bard could feel his blush just as he could feel his heart swell.

The first time Bard had called Thranduil _Meleth nín_ , there was first a look of utter shock on his face, before it was replaced by pure, unadulterated joy and a long deep kiss on his lips, with more Elvish spoken into his mouth.

So, occasionally Bard would take little things he heard Thranduil say in Elvish, and ask Tauriel to translate them for him. The ones he heard most often were endearments, there were a great many ways to say ‘I love you’ in Elvish, and most of them were far more beautiful than the words of man could properly capture.  Some were compliments (a few intimate enough to make Tauriel laugh at his blush when she translated them for him).

Which was why he was surprised that after he’d repeated that Thranduil said a lot (or some for thereupon), normally when he was labouring around, still trying to shift rubble and rebuild, Tauriel actually blushed herself.

Up until now she had only found things amusing, like that time she translated that Thranduil had been saying how much he preferred it when he worked without his shirt, Bard had blushed, embarrassed, when Tauriel had explained – but he had also stopped wearing a shirt while he worked (what? It was getting hot, stretching into summer…not that that had anything to do with it).

But right now Tauriel was beet red.

“Did I not say it right?” Bard worried that he had said something offensive.

“No, uh, I think you said it right.”

“Oh? I hope I did not offend.”

“No, you didn’t. Just perhaps an overshare.” Tauriel muttered, still bright red.

“What does it mean?” Bard asked, even more curious now at Tauriel’s reaction.

“Uh, it means, um, ‘I want you to bend me over and, uh, take me hard against the wall.” Bard was now also blushing furiously, “there, um, might’ve also been something about spanking.” Tauriel rushed on.

“Oh, um, right.” Bard answered awkwardly, embarrassed.

“I’m going to go.” Tauriel suggested, looking like she was about ready to start finding it amusing again (now that Bard was the embarrassed one anyway).

“Tauriel, wait. Um, could you help me with something?”

Which is how, after much initial awkwardness and then giggling (not that Bard would ever admit that he giggled) Bard left Tauriel with a new elvish vocabularly and a warning.

“If you tell him any of this I will kill you.” Tauriel faux-warned with a raised eyebrow.

“I’m afraid you might be in even more trouble if you touch a hair on my head.” Bard grinned back.

 

So now, he was lugging around debris out of an empty, thus far uninhabitable part of Dale, like he usually did. Only now he was very aware that the bits of elvish Thranduil had always spoke while he worked, were a little more explicit that he had previously assumed.

Obviously he did not understand entire sentences, but Tauriel had taught him enough ‘keywords’ for him to get the gist. And it was getting increasingly hard to keep a straight face (and to keep certain other things under control) as Thranduil was muttering increasingly graphic fantasies.

Bard let him continue to think that he did not understand, loving and getting more turned on by the things Thranduil was saying; there was something in there about marking him up for the world to see, and wanting to ride him so hard he wouldn’t be able to sit atop his elk for days – and wasn’t _that_ an image Bard would like to become a reality.  

He wondered why Thranduil didn’t say these things in the common tongue, ask for them when they were together; especially as Bard was more than willing (completely desperate) to provide.

As Thranduil purred something that was along the lines of tying him up and taking him so hard his great bed cracked and every soul in Dale, Erebor and Mirkwood knew who was wrecking him for anyone else ever – Bard felt the last of his restraint crack and the rest of his blood rush south.

He walked over to Thranduil slowly, before pulling him in to whisper directly into his ear.

“You know, if you keep saying these filthy thing, I may have to come up with something to occupy your mouth with instead.”

“You k–” Thranduil broke off into a gasp as Bard nipped on his sensitive ear.

“Mmm. Yeah, I know. I know all about your torrid little fantasies.” Bard teased, sucking on Thranduil’s pulse point. “Just think what we could’ve already been doing if you had just told me. But then again, that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun. Saying all these things in broad daylight when anyone could here.” Bard tsked his tongue, but Thranduil caught the glint in his eyes and dove in to attack his mouth.

It wasn’t long until he was being dragged back to his house in Dale.

If only he had learnt Elvish earlier.


	9. Stranded in a broken-down elevator au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bard and Thranduil are neighbours, have been for months now, and they kinda have a crush on each other. Maybe they see each other while doing the laundry some Sundays but usually they just share a few words you know, because the crush shuts off their brains. The thing is that they get stuck in the elevator one late afternoon, and they have to spend the night there. Bonus points (what points?) if it’s cold and, well, cuddling for heat happens.

 

Here’s the thing, Bard has had a hopeless crush on his neighbour for a while now, it started not long after he moved into his new building (okay, it really started the second he laid eyes on him, but that technically wasn’t long after he moved in).

Honestly, he had been pretty helpless. The guy was tall, really tall, but somehow not lanky. His long hair was silvery blonde and travelled down his back, sometimes loose, sometimes in a soft braid, but never with a single strand out of place, and Bard just wanted to find out if it felt as silky as it looked.

His eyebrows were dark and thick, which Bard though was odd because he was pretty sure he was a natural blonde – unless he took serious care of his roots. His skin was pale but he never looked washed out, he never seemed to look anything short of perfect.

His eyes were a piercing, icy blue, looking out from a flawless face with high cheekbones and a strong jaw. He was without a doubt the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

And that was all before he even knew the guy’s name. Yeah, hopeless was definitely the correct word.

And it had only gotten worse since.

“Da, I found out the name of the neighbour you’ve been ogling for the past month.” Sigrid had informed him one day about two months ago now.

“Really? Wha– I mean, I do not ogle! And I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

“Oh, so you don’t want to know his name?” Sigrid had teased him with a smug grin.

“…no?” Bard had responded weakly, unsure which was more important to him, his pride (which he was pretty sure was dead as far as his eldest child was concerned anyway) or his need to know the beautiful stranger’s name. Sigrid had laughed at his uncertain response.

“His name is Thranduil.” She had informed him before going into her room giggling.

And wasn’t that a name Bard liked to roll around on his tongue.

It suited him perfectly, Bard though, him and his name were bother sort of otherworldly, untouchable – not that that stopped Bard from wanting to touch, badly.

Another strange thing about Thranduil, was that everyone else in their building seemed to have the same thoughts about him; he was aloof, arrogant, proud and not a small bit dismissive of everyone. But Bard had never, ever gotten this vibe off of the other man.

It’s not like they’d spoken much as Bard quickly lost the ability to speak around Thranduil, fumbling his words and blushing like a ten year old girl with a playground crush. Which was humiliating and made him blush even harder – it was a vicious circle.

Anyway, the Thranduil Bard had met from their short conversations here and there, seemed almost shy. Bard remembered the first time he’d plucked up the courage and actually spoken to him – well, tried to anyway. Most Sundays Bard was coming into the laundry room just as Thranduil folded up his newly cleaned clothes.

“I like your shirt.” Bard had blurted like a tween with a crush and not a thirty six year old man with three kids. Thranduil had looked startled at his outburst. “It’s, uh, really nice.” He finished even more awkwardly than he had started.

“Thank you. It is one of my favourite.” Thranduil had replied quietly, with a soft smile at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah. Mine too. Not that I know what all your clothes are. Uh– ” Bard managed to curb his word vomit but not before he had gone beet red, although, Thranduil was blushing lightly and smiling softly at the floor. But Bard was still pretty sure he’d just blown any chance he’d ever had within two awkward sentences.

“I like your shirt too.” Thranduil had mumbled quietly. Bard had whipped his head up and smiled nervously at him, both of them had interesting shades of red staining their cheeks.

Bard may or may not have started coming down slightly earlier to do his washing. And maybe it was wishful thinking but it seemed like Thranduil was either coming down slightly later or taking slightly longer. They didn’t speak much, exchanging a few awkward words before blushing through the rest of his washing.

But Bard was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one blushing.

Or the only one with a little smile playing on his lips.

 

So, they had this little shy thing between them. Bard was thinking of making it his new year’s resolution to actually maybe ask him out before they both died from blushing. Every time he’d tried to he’d ended up stumbling over his words before getting embarrassed and chickening out. It wasn’t his fault! Half the time he got distracted by Thranduil’s perfect face and then couldn’t fathom why someone as beautiful as that would want anything to do with him and he managed to freak himself out before he’s managed to ask.

Even though if Thranduil’s own blushing was anything to go by, he wouldn’t be met with a no.

Anyway, it was January 3rd, Bard is getting home late from work, already dark outside and late for dinner (and Sigrid was never happy when he was late for dinner).

“Hold the lift.” Bard called as he ran towards it. A slender, hand reached out and stopped the doors from closing – he knew who that hand belonged to.

“Thanks.” Bard said blushing at the floor – seriously why was he even blushing!? Had Thranduil’s presence just becoming a pavlovian response for him to blush! He was a grown-ass man!

They stood there as the lift started moving in silence for a few beats, Bard was about to say something to fill the silence, but Thranduil spoke up first.

“You are home late today?”

“Yeah. There was a customer who decided she didn’t want to cough up for the new carburettor I’d fitted because she hadn’t known she needed one. When she’d literally had us tow her car and demanded we ‘fix whatever is wrong’ before flouncing off. So I did that and she decided she didn’t want to pay.” Bard griped, he normally got along quite well with the customers, but this woman had been ridiculous.

“I presume you got your money.”

“Most of it.” Bard grumbled, he hadn’t been happy, but by the end he was only a bit short, and he decided to settle for getting home before it got really late.

“That is unacceptable. You should’ve insisted.” Thranduil frowned.

“It took me ages to even get that much out of her. And I needed to get home.  I don’t like leaving Sigrid to look after Tilda and Bain on her own so much. It’s not fair on her.” Bard sighed.

“Hmm. I still do not like the idea of you not getting paid properly. You work long hard hours, it is hardly fair.”

“Life tends not to worry about fair.”

At that moment, as if to emphasise his point, the lift stuttered loudly to a halt and the lights flickered out.

“No, you’re right, it does not.” Thranduil commented, heading over to the panel as Bard turned on the assistive light on his phone.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Bard groaned, letting his head smack against the wall. “Anything?” he asked Thranduil from where he was using elegant fingers to press some buttons.

“It does not appear to be working. But there is an emergency phone number here.” Thranduil informed him, drawing his phone out of his pocket with elegant fingers, that Bard just wanted to suck on – as well as other things – and wow, now was really not the time for that.

“Yes. Hello, our lift has broken down. We’re in The Greenwood apartment block. What? That is entirely unacceptable. No I will not. Put your manager on immediately. Then recruit more men. No. I do not particularly care.” Bard listened to one half of the conversation, hearing an increasingly cutting and icy tone come out of Thranduil. It clearly wasn’t going well.

After a few imaginatively barbed remarks, Thranduil vehemently ended the call, glaring at the phone.

“I take it you do not have good news.”

“Apparently there has been a rather large powercut and we are not the only people stranded in a lift. They are prioritising lifts with babies, children, or people with medical issues.”

“Seems fair.” Bard admitted genuinely.

“Yes, although it unfortunately means that it may well be a significant amount of time until they get to us.”

“How significant?”

“Hours. Up to six.”

“Six hours! Christ. I need to phone my kids.” Bard grumbled, dialling home. “Hi darlin’”

“Da? Where are you, you were supposed to be home ages ago.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I had to stay late at the garage.”

“Oh, so are you nearly back.”

“Well I’m in the building, but because of this bloody powercut I am now stranded in the lift, and it looks like it is going to be quite a long time until we’re getting out. Can you make sure Tilda and Bain get to bed on time?”

“Yes of course. Are you okay? Wait, what do you mean we?”

“Um, I wasn’t the only one in the lift.”

“Please say its Thranduil in there with you! Oh my god it is isn’t it.” Sigrid yelled gleefully down the line.

“Sigrid this isn’t funny.” He tried to scold .

“No, it definitely is. See if you can pluck up the courage to ask him out while you’re down there.”

“Sigrid this is hardly the right situation.”

“Yeah, whatever dad. I’m sure you’ll manage to pass the time.” She teased down the line, bard blushed and said his goodbyes.

“Your children are okay?” Thranduil asked, Bard set his phone face down in the corner, so the light on the back threw out some light for them.

“Yeah, Sigrid thinks it’s more amusing than anything else. Especially because, well, yeah.” bard cut himself off, hoping the light didn’t show how much he was blushing.

“Because?” Thranduil asked, Bard though it sounded almost teasing.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I think I’d like to know.”

“Uh, well, because. Um, I may have a small, uh, crush on you.” Bard mumbled out – shocked at himself for admitting it, especially without an escape route.  

“I know.” Thranduil said with a little wisp of musical laughter.

“Yeah. I’ve not been subtle I guess. Sorry.”

“Whatever are you sorry about?”

“My silly and inappropriate crush on you?” Bard tried.

“I don’t think it’s particularly inappropriate. Well maybe the way you stare occasionally, but then, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy that.”

“Oh?” Was all Bard could answer, not entirely sure what Thranduil was getting at. Maybe he just liked the attention?

“And I would also be a liar if I said I didn’t do my share of looking either.” He continued with a glint in his eyes, eyes dragging appreciatively up and down Bard to make his point.

“Uh– ” Was what Bard managed, a little baffled by what Thranduil – perfect and beautiful Thranduil – was getting at. His dazed reply was cut off by another trill of laughter from Thranduil, it was a beautiful sound really, he should do it more often.

“I am sorry. I wonder if the dark makes me bold. Or if I have just finally grown tired of waiting.”

“Waiting?”

“I think you’ve attempted to ask me out approximately seven times this month.”

“You, uh, caught on to that, hu?”

“You are not a subtle man Bard.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Stop apologising. Especially as I am hardly complaining. I find I rather like you.”

“Then why didn’t you put me out of my misery and ask me?” Bard challenged.

“I was planning to if you didn’t manage it soon, but I was rather enjoying your attempts.” Thranduil teased, making Bard huff indignantly.

“Thranduil, would you like to go for a drink with me sometime?” Bard asked, only partially sarcastically.

“Thought you’d never ask.” Thranduil smirked back, making Bard roll him eyes.

“However, planned or unplanned it looks like our first date is going be in a broken down lift.” Bard joked, sitting himself down leaning against the wall and patting the floor next to him, which Thranduil gracefully sunk down onto.

They chatted easily now they were both on the same page, and not mortally embarrassed and blushing every thirty seconds. They talked about everything and nothing, as it turned out they had quite a bit in common. They were both widowers and single parents, but Thranduil’s son, Legolas, had left home recently, whereas Sigrid was a few years off that yet.

“Is it me, or is it getting rather cold in here?” Thranduil asked. And he was right, Bard had noticed earlier, but he was wearing his thick long (if a little battered) coat, so he hadn’t really been bothered, only now he noticed that Thranduil only had a thin, stylish blazer on.

Bard lifted up his arm and motioned for Thranduil to tuck into his side, which he did so gladly.

“You know, if you wanted to cuddle, all you had to do was ask.” Bard teased as Thranduil pressed closer, tucking his head against Bard’s chest.

“Well, you are not exactly an expert in just asking for what you want, are you?” Thranduil returned, no doubt referring to how long it had taken him to pluck up the courage to ask him out (and even then that was pretty much down to Thranduil).

“And you are?”

“Usually. You should try it sometime. Simply asking for what you want, it makes things ar simpler.”

“Thranduil?”

“Mmm?”

“I would quite like to kiss you right now.”

“That was a statement not a question.” Thranduil replied, but he was smiling.

“Thranduil, can I kiss you right now.”

“Yes you may.” Thranduil smirked, letting Bard bring him forward by his chin and cover his lips with his own.

Thranduil’s lips were soft but insistent, pushing for more, and when Bard traced his tongue along the seam of his lips Thranduil opened for him easily, moaning lightly. Thranduil moved to straddle Bard’s lap to get a better angle as Bard alternated between practically sucking on his tongue and biting on his lip (which Thranduil was very on board with if the whimpers he was making were any indication).

They kissed long and hard and increasingly less chaste for ages. It’s not like they had anything better to be doing (it’s not like it was possible for them to have anything better to be doing).

He was sucking on Thranduil’s neck and tugging at his hair as Thranduil started to grind his hips down, pushing their hardening cocks together.

“We shouldn’t.” Bard gasped as Thranduil’s delicate fingers started toying with his buttons.

“We definitely should. We could be here for hours yet.” Thranduil murmured.

“Yeah. Or they’ll come to rescue us and find us in a very compromising position. And when we do do this, I don’t want to rush. I plan on taking my time taking you apart.” Bard whispered directly into his ear. “I’m going to keep going until you’ve forgotten everything except my name.” Bard finished, punctuating it with a nip to Thranduil’s ear.

Thranduil moaned at Bard’s words, desperately trying to get some friction. Bard ran his hands across Thranduil’s bared throat where his head was thrown back, and found his skin was chilled, when he ran his hands along his cheeks, they were also cold, and when Thranduil’s hand found its way into Bard’s shirt, he could feel how cold they were as well.

“You’re absolutely freezing.” Bard commented, concerned, rubbing his hands quickly up and down his shoulders and arms to try and help warm him up.

“Yes, but I can think of a way you can warm me up.” Thranduil breathed, taking Bard’s mouth in another quick kiss.

“So can I.” Bard returned, before placing another quick kiss on Thranduil’s lips and flipping Thranduil onto the floor, where he proceed to shrug off his coat and use it as a blanket to cover them both with.

“This is not exactly what I meant.” Thranduil mock-complained, but he was already easily tucking himself into Bard’s side, as though he had been doing it forever.

“I know, but I’m not having sex with you in a broken down life. My life is not a bad porno.”

“Bore.” Thranduil smirked against his chest.

“Well at least not the first time.” Bard amended with a wink down at Thranduil and shot him a mischievous look back.

“Now that is promising.” Thranduil answered with a glint in his eye and Bard had a feeling he was in for a wild ride.

They fell asleep curled up together under Bard’s quote until they were woken up by the doors being forced open.

Bard shifted to look up groggily as Thranduil complained and tried to bury his face further into his neck. He saw a man in uniform forcing the doors open so they could climb out from where they had stopped between two levels, and next to him was a positively gleeful looking Sigrid.

“Bain! You owe me ten bucks!” She shouted, skipping off down the hall giggling.

Bard was back to blushing furiously as the man who’d opened the door snorted into his hand.

But as Thranduil nuzzled sleepily into his side, he knew he wouldn’t change a thing.

 


	10. Thranduil gets badly injured in the battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 'What about Thranduil gets badly injured in battle and Bard is desperate, and realizes that his elf is mortal too in some way and that his Lord dying before him would be unbearable?'
> 
> Rated: idk, g/t ?

 

 

Bard was wandering through the aftermath of the battle, searching for Thranduil and anything that could be salvaged, starting the general clean-up. He knew he’d come across Thranduil eventually. He was probably regrouping with the elves, there was no doubt quiet a lot he had to see to as king.

Gods, people were talking about Bard becoming King of Dale; maybe Thranduil would be able to help him figure out exactly what a ‘king’ is supposed to do.

Maybe they could use it as an excuse to see each other more often. ‘Visiting on business with the king’. And well, that wouldn’t _not_ be true. Just the nature of the business might not be what people assumed.

It would be far easier than when Bard was a simple bargeman anyway – that hadn’t been easy to explain when they were spotted together. They had claimed that the Elvenking had serious concerns about some of his barrels (Bard couldn’t believe the elf that had found them on his barge believed that – luckily clothes had been re-adorned by that point).

Probably because his regal king going down on his knees for a bargeman was even more unbelievable.

How wrong they were.

Anyway, they had both ended up involved in this ridiculous battle because Thorin Oakenshield couldn’t see that attacking that accursed mountain was probably a bad idea.

They’d lost far too many people, both him and Thranduil. Bard was one of the lucky ones, his entire family had survived, Tilda, Bain and Sigrid were all okay with barely a scratch between them. And Bard had seen Thranduil fight, no one could have touched him on the battlefield.

It was selfish, but Bard was relieved every day to remember that his elven love was immortal, that he’d never have to go through what he did with his wife again. He tried not to think about the fact that for Thranduil it was not the same. But Thranduil wanted to cherish the time that they did have together, and Bard was willing to give him everything while he could still be here with him.

After his first sweep of the ruins he still hadn’t found Thranduil, he figured Thranduil had probably returned to his tent, he had probably been much more efficient in his combing through the aftermath, opposed to the somewhat random wandering Bard had been doing.

So Bard headed to Thranduil’s tent. He had spent the night there last night, curled up in each other’s arms. Thranduil hadn’t said it, but Bard knew that Thranduil had been terrified the he wouldn’t make it through the battle, but it was okay, he had done.

As he approached the large tent he noticed many of the elves looking anxious and bustling around without the grace they normally showed. Something had them stressed out, Bard wondered what it could possibly be.

It was when one of the elven generals saw him and his look of worry intensified that Bard started to get a bad feeling.

“I’m looking for King Thranduil?” Bard asked sceptically. “But it looks as though may be a bad time? I can come back.” Bard finished as three elves raced past him frantically.

Bard turned to leave, he could find Thranduil later, when he wasn’t so busy with whatever it was that was going on, but the elf grabbed his arm before he could leave.

“No, wait. My lord Bard, you should go in. He is asking for you.”

“What do you mean?” Bard asked, ignoring the way his gut was plunging, the way he was pretty sure he knew exactly what was meant. But it wasn’t possible. He wouldn’t believe it.

“You have not been told?” Bard shook his head, dread forcing its way through him. “King Thranduil was struck in battle, it is bad, we are doing everyth– ”

Bard didn’t hear the rest of the sentence, he was already barging into the tent, forcing the bile rising up in his throat back down. He ran into the back room of the tent, separated by thick velvety curtains, to where he knew Thranduil’s bed to be.

When he passed through the curtain he let out a small gasp before the air caught in his throat. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, rooted to the spot.

Thranduil was pale, he always was, but he never looked sickly as he did now. His normally piercing eyes were sunken, his hair look thin and wasn’t shining as it normally did; his breath was coming in ragged rattles.

“ _Meleth nín_?” Came Thranduil’s voice, weak and barely loud enough to be heard, as he raised a shaky hand, reaching for Bard.

The sound of his broken voice jerked Bard into movement and he raced over to Thranduil’s side, collapsing on his knees next to the bed and taking Thranduil’s delicate hand in his own. It was cold.

A soft, relieved smile settled itself on Thranduil’s lips as Bard clasped his elegant hand in his rough ones.

“I was worried you would not come. That you had been taken in the battle.”

“No my love, I am fine.” Bard replied, hand trembling like his voice as he gently pushed back the hair falling across Thranduil’s forehead, he knew how the elf hated it when his hair was in his eyes. He didn’t seem to have the energy left to do it himself.

“I was worried you would not get here in time.” Thranduil spoke again, voice getting quieter still, spoken on a breath as he struggled to speak.

Bard felt like a knife was cutting straight into his heart.

He couldn’t mean he was dying? Thranduil couldn’t die! He was the immortal, untouchable Elvenking of Mirkwood. He couldn’t be dying! Bard needed him. Needed to tell him things and take him places and hear him laugh again.

He needed him.

He couldn’t be dying.

But he was.

“What happened?” Bard rasped around the lump in his throat.

“I found myself somewhat surrounded.” Thranduil smiled self-deprecatingly. “I did not notice until sometime later, adrenalin of the battle carrying me.” Thranduil gestured weakly at his side, motioning for Bard to look.

He rolled the thin covers back gently. Bard had never struggled to keep his equilibrium, even when faced with the horrible aftermath of battle. But he felt bile in his throat and faint in his head as he saw the wound stretching up the side of Thranduil’s long torso.

It was an ugly, jagged, bloody wound, now blackened with poison. It wasn’t particularly deep, but it didn’t need to be. He had been torn through with a morgul blade.

“How did you not notice this?” Bard asked desperately, coving it back over, unable to look at it.

“I knew I had been scratched. I did not know it was so serious. I had other things on my mind.”

“Your people are incredible healers. You will be fine.” Bard comforted, forcing himself to believe it as he cupped a hand around Thranduil’s cold cheek and brushed him thumb across his cheekbone.

“I fear they will not find what they need in time. Not much grows up here by the foot of that forsaken mountain.”

“No, you’ve got time.” Bard said, bordering the line between comforting and frantic. Even in the short time they had been speaking, the skin below Thranduil’s eyes had darkened, and his lips had lost all of their colour.

His grip on Thranduil’s hand tightened, like if he held on tight enough he could stop him from slipping away right before his eyes.

“Maybe.” Thranduil smiled at Bard weakly, but Bard could tell that it was said for his benefit, and not because the elf believed it.

“The other elf, Tauriel, she said kingsfoil. We just need to get you some kingsfoil.”

“Yes. But there is none up here. Some of my people have left to get some. But I am afraid they will be too late.”

“No. No, you cannot say that. I cannot lose you. I can’t! I don’t know what I’ll do.” Bard broke off, unable and unwilling to stop the tears that were slipping from his eyes.

“You will look after your children.” Thranduil said softly, lifting his unsteady had and resting it against Bard’s cheek, wiping away some of his tears. “You will live a full and happy life, you will do it for me. Promise me. Promise me you will.”

Bard shook his head, unable to imagine himself happy after this loss. Unwilling to picture any future that didn’t have Thranduil in it. But it was Thranduil’s glare, a ghost of what it used to be, but still quintessentially _his,_ that made Bard choke something between a sob and a laugh.

“I promise.” He whispered, voice cracking.

“And when it is finally your time. I shall be waiting for you in the Halls of Mandos. And I will expect to hear great stories about your time here.” Thranduil smiled at him again, genuine in all his requests. Bard could only nod against his hand, turning to kiss its palm.

“ _Melin le_ , my Dragonslayer. _Melithon le anuir_.” Thranduil said, voice almost as ragged and shallow as his breath had become.

“I love you too.” Bard replied, recognising the Elvish Thranduil said to him so often, so freely.

Thranduil whimpered as a look of pain crossed his fine features, muscles tensing as he hurt.

“What is it, what can I do?” Bard asked frantically, needing to somehow ease his lover, to make it better in any way that he could.

“Would you just hold me? _Meleth nín?_ One last time.”

Bard didn’t speak, probably couldn’t speak by this point, he just wordlessly slipped in behind Thranduil, being careful not to jostle him even as he held him back against his chest, cold in his arms.

He presses kisses to the top of his head and couldn’t stop the tears that were falling freely and silently into his silken hair. They didn’t speak, Thranduil was so close to not being able to anymore. They just held each other, waiting.

Bard did not know how he would survive this.

“Let me past! Let me through!” He heard shouted from outside of the tent. “I can help just let me in.” He recognised it immediately as his eldest daughter’s voice.

“My king, there is a young lady demanding to be granted entrance?” An elf reported, eyes downcast and sad. Bard could not believe he had ever though elves cold.

“It is Sigrid.” He told Thranduil, combing a hand through his hair. “She thinks she can help. She probably just wants to see you. She is very fond of you, you know.” Bard informed him gently.

“And I her.” Thranduil managed to say, voice strained and breaking.. He nodded to the elf and made a tiny, shaky gesture to allow her in.

“Da!” Sigrid shouted, but she ran to the side of Thranduil, who did his best to smile at her.

“Is this what you need?” She cried frantically, pulling a weed out of her hand. It was kingsfoil.

“Oh my god. Sigrid! Guards!” Bard yelled, not knowing what else to call them, and not wanting to move Thranduil from resting against him, his eyes were shut, oh _god_ they could not be too late. Bard could still feel tiny breaths against his chest.

The guards rushed in, looking for danger, instead they saw what Bard brandished in his hand.

“Athelas!” One of them practically shouted, snatching it out of Bard’s hand and reeling off orders in elvish to the others, who promptly ran out of the tent.

“How did you find it!” The elf asked, he was already grinding the plant in a little pot.

“I brought some with me, when Tauriel used it back in Laketown I thought it might be useful. But I only just found out about Thranduil or I would’ve been here so much sooner.” Sigrid explained with a nervous look at Thranduil’s almost unmoving form.

“It’s okay darlin’ you’ve got here in time.” Bard assured, but no one in the tent looked convinced.

The elves that had been sent away returned with some different elves, healers if the way they took over the operation was any indication. They worked swiftly and efficiently, pushing the mixture into Thranduil’s wound within moments. Thranduil didn’t even flinch, he wasn’t conscious, Bard couldn’t bear to check if he was still breathing.

A feeling of dread washed over him. They might already be too late. He held on to Thranduil tighter as the elf started to mutter in elvish, they couldn’t be too late. They _couldn’t_.

Thranduil didn’t thrash like the dwarf had done. Just laid still and cold in Bard’s arms.

Laid dead in his arms.

Bard couldn’t help the sob that left his lungs, pulling Thranduil closer to him as if he could pull him back from wherever it was he had gone.

He cried unashamed and uncontrolled into his lover’s hair, unable to control his breathing as tears were wracked from him. He wanted to claw out his own heart. He couldn’t bare it. He couldn’t breathe.

“N-no no no. Come back, _Meleth nín_. Come b-back! Please. Don’t leave me. I love you. Please. _Melin le_.” Bard begged into Thranduil’s hair, bundling his unmoving form up in his arms, furiously holding onto his love.

“I am here, _Meleth nín._ ” Came the weakest, hoarsest voice Bard had ever heard. But by god it was a voice. It was life.

It was everything.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know elvish (shocker) I found the phrases off of [this site](http://www.gatheringoflaurelin.com/index.php?topic=1196.5;wap2)


	11. Bard notices Thranduil has aged, even though elves are meant to be immortal and ageless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard notices Thranduil has aged, even though elves are meant to be immortal and ageless
> 
> Rating: G

 

They had been together for a while now. Closing on ten years; the King Consorts of Dale and Mirkwood. It had surprised the men and elves at first, but now it was just the way it was. But something about it had been particularly shocking to the elves, he still wasn’t sure what; men and elves were rare, but not unheard of. Yet something had stunned them, and for a few months they had just stared.

Well, at that point, he and Thranduil had already been together almost a year, they had just decided to make it public knowledge so they didn’t need to sneak and make excuses to see each other.

There was an elvish ceremony to pledge yourselves of each other that Thranduil had wanted them to do, and Bard was hardly going to say no. He was unable to dent his elf anything. So they simply accounted their relationship by announcing the ceremony.

When Bard had asked if it was like a wedding, Thranduil had shaken his head and replied with a smile that was only ever given to Bard;

“It is so much more than that, _Meleth nín_.” He hadn’t elaborated, he’d just taken Bard’s hand and kissed him fiercely.

Anyway, he really couldn’t fathom why or what the elves were so shocked about, most of them would’ve had to be pretty blind to have not noticed that there was no way he and their king had needed to see each other so often.

So Bard had decided to ignore them.

He was far more focused on giving Thranduil everything he could while he was still around to give it. Bard was painfully aware that one day he was going to die and leave Thranduil here all alone. He did not like thinking about it.

It was autumn in Mirkwood when he noticed, they were in the vast, cavernous, halls of the Woodland realm, and suddenly Bard just _noticed_.

Thranduil’s hair had always been a beautiful slivery blonde, but now Bard noticed small streaks of white, barely noticeable, but there all the same.

Around those ancient, icy blue eyes of his and his perfect mouth, were thin and delicate lines, almost invisible, showing how he had laughed and frowned and cried with age.

 _Age_.

Thranduil was _aging_.  

But elves didn’t age, they were ageless. Growing older in years but never in body, never heading towards the end that age inevitably brought.

“You look older.” Bard blurted, Thranduil paused and turned from his papers to him.

“As do you, _Meleth nín_. But no less beautiful.” Thranduil smiled, tucking a piece of Bard’s hair behind his ear.

“Thranduil, why do you look older?” Bard asked, not allowing him to ignore the real question. He took his lover’s hand and for the first time noticed the tiny amounts of wrinkling that had begun there.

“Do you not know?” Thranduil replied with a gentle, loving look in his eye. And Bard probably did, even if he did not understand how.

“No, I need you to explain.” He implored, searching those eyes that he could and had lost himself in for hours many times.

“I pledged myself to you. It tied us together here, and in the next life. I could not face the prospect of losing you and lingering on, broken and empty. I could not do it.”

“You gave up your immortality for me?” Bard breathed, and when Thranduil ducked his head to indicate yes, he gasped out. It easily explained why the elves had been so shocked, it wasn’t them, it was that their king wanted to give up his immortality for a man.

“Oh you stupid elf! Why would you do that? Why would you let me take that from you?”

“You know why.”

“You could have lived so long and done so much.”

“In the choice between an eternity alone, and one precious lifetime with you. You must know what I would chose.”

“I am not worth it.” Bard whispered, looking at the floor between them.

“You are the only one who is.” Came Thranduil’s steady, sincere voice, as he tipped Bard’s chin towards him and brought him into a slow, deep kiss.

And Bard allowed himself to be relieved, because he understood. Because if their positions had been reversed, he knows he would have done the same.

They would never have to be without each other, in this life or the next.

 


	12. Bard tells Thranduil about taking the dwarves across the lake, he's pissed, until he hears about the fish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> ever1 lived so Thranduil is actually having some diplomatic shit w/ Thorin & they spend the whole day annoying each other & then thranduil is pissy and complaining to Bard and just like "they should've drowned in the barrels in the lake and how did they even get past the lake" and Bard is like "weeeeell..." & Thranduil is first annoyed & then at the fish/toilet thing he's just like cackling and cant wait to rub it in Thorin's face next time that idiot annoys him and idk I would just love to see an annoyed and tired (coughbitchycough) Thranduil and Bard being a little shit but still making him feel better and stuff.
> 
> Rated: T

 

It was some kind of miracle really, that so many had survived the battle, now being hailed as ‘The Battle of the Five Armies’.

Thorin had been slightly more surprising as far as survival went, but it seems that medical aid was gotten to him by the elves just in the nick of time. Despite being cornered, Fili and Kili had been cornered, but the story Bard had heard was that Legolas and Tauriel had managed to snatch them away quite stealthily before they were completely trapped.

It hadn’t surprised anyone that had seen him fight that Thranduil had survived; graceful, deadly and untouchable on the battlefield. But Bard was immeasurably relieved to see him nonetheless. His love and his children were safe, he had barely dared to hope for so much.

However; as delightful as it was that they had all survive, it had ultimately lead to the situation he was currently in.

Bard groaned and buried his head in his hands as Thranduil and Throin continued to bicker at each other like the five year olds they were. Well, okay, Bard knew for a fact that Thranduil had absolutely _nothing_ in common with a five year old physically. But right now, he certainly was behaving like one.

They had been annoying each other deliberately all day, and frankly, there were things Bard would rather be doing with his day. He was there officially as the ‘king’ of Dale, but he felt much more like a mediator than anything else.

They sniped at each other and made fun of each other and refused to agree on things that were frankly, perfectly agreeable. It was driving Bard up the wall.

For example, right now they were arguing over the exact borders of their lands, as if two centimetres and a toe across the line was going to end in war.

“For gods sake!” He finally shouted. “Can you please act like grown-ups, for one second? I’d tell you to act like kings, but I have a horrible feeling that you are! The lines you are arguing over for your borders are completely ignoring the very _existence_ of Dale, so excellent, I will act as a buffer between you to block-headed idiots, as I can see becoming my primary occupation. Now are we done here?”

Everyone around the table looked up at Bard, baffled by his sudden outburst, except Bilbo, who just looked amused and relieved.

“You, come on, up, we’re going home.” Bard commanded, tapping Thranduil on his shoulder to get him to stand, quiet surprisingly he actually did – but then, he always has had a thing for Bard giving him orders, although not usually in this context.

He grabbed Thranduil’s elegant hand and all but dragged him out of Erebor. He manhandled Thranduil, who by this point was not really functioning and had a dark, hungry look in his eyes, onto his horse and lead the way back to Dale.

Unsurprisingly the moment they were alone in Bard’s little house, Thranduil initiated some pretty athletic and less than vanilla sex. Bard should tell him off more often.

They were lying in Bard’s bed with the somewhat worse for wear covers pooled around them (seriously Thranduil had actually managed to rip some of the sheets). Thranduil’s head was laying on his stomach as he drew patterns with his finger absently on Bard’s legs and Bard was combing his hands through Thranduil’s silken hair.

“I really hate dwarves.” Thranduil piped up suddenly, Bard groaned.

“Seriously, you want to talk about this now, here?” Bard asked, gesturing around them and at the all evidence of the sex they’d just been having (and hopefully would again before the night was out).

“No.” Thranduil grumbled, before sighing and ploughing on anyway, Bard really hadn’t expected anything different. “They should've drowned in the barrels in the lake. How did they even get across the lake in _barrels_?!”

“Well…”

“You did not.” Thranduil shot up, glaring at Bard, who couldn’t help but laugh, that glare had long since lost its effect on him.

“I may have, b–”

“You’re unbelievable!” Thranduil exclaimed, shoving him in the chest, Bard just caught his delicate fingers and pulled him in for a laughing kiss, getting another disgruntled glare from Thranduil.

“If you’d let me finish my story, I’ll tell you what I did to them next.”

“What?” Thranduil asked grumpily (which was actually just adorable given that he was looking tired and sat in a pool of blankets, with hair falling softly around his face).

“Well, in order to get them into Laketown I had to smuggle them. Would you like to hear how I did that.” Thranduil inclined his head to indicate yes. “I put them back in the barrels. Then I filled the barrels up with fish.”

Bard could see Thranduil picturing that image before he broke out in musical, full-bodied laughter.

“And then,” Bard continued. “My house was being watched, so I made them swim up through my toilet to get into my house.”

If it had been possible for Thranduil to laugh any harder, he did, doubling over and even wiping a stray tear from his eye. The sight and sound was the kind Bard had grown to live for, being the only one to make the regal, stoic Elvenking laugh and smile so brightly.

“So, am I forgiven?” Bard asked teasingly as Thranduil calmed down.

“Yes. You are very much forgive.” Thranduil panted, out of breath for laughing, before diving forward and kissing Bard – which was difficult given how hard they were both smiling.

As things often did with them, the kiss quickly dissolved into round five for that evening, leaving them once again exhausted and collapsed against each other.

Thranduil started snickering into Bard’s side after their post-coital nap, and it quickly turned into a cackle.

“What?” Bard asked, bemused.

“The next time that dwarf annoys me. I am going to remind him of that little fish/toilet incident.”

“Seriously! You’re thinking about that now.” Bard groaned, throwing his arm across his face in mock despair. “I ban all talk of dwarves while we are naked.”

“Or…”

“Or what?”

“You could work a little harder to take my mind off of everything except you.” Thranduil tempted looking up at him through his long lashed, voice set low and sultry.

“Is that a challenge?” Bard asked with a cocked eyebrow, Thranduil looked at him coyly.

Bard dragged him up the bed and locked their mouths together once more, fitting perfectly against each other in a way Bard could never quite believe.

Bard met Thranduil’s challenge with round six.

And by round eight the sun was up and Thranduil couldn’t even form a sentence.

He’d say he was pretty successful.


	13. Thranduil offers his hair for Tilda to practice braiding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Okay so, we all established that the idea of Thranduil braiding Bard’s kids’ hair is amazing but listen to this: one day Tilda looks at her hair in the mirror and says “I want to learn how to do that.” And Thranduil’s like, “Here, practice on my hair.” and Bard comes how to see Thranduil sitting on the floor surrounded by kids and his hair is a total mess of weird braids everywhere
> 
> Rated: G

 

Tilda was looking in her little mirror that sat beside her bed, twisting herself around to try and get a good look at the back of her hair. She tugged out the little tie at the end of the messy braid she had tried to do herself and shook out the hair, ready to try again, but getting more and more frustrated.

Her little arms just couldn’t quite reach properly and she wasn’t good enough yet to be able to do it right without looking. So it always came out messy and with bits of hair sticking out all wispy and a massive knot when she tried to pull it out – no matter how careful she was.

“What are you doing, _pen-neth_?” Thranduil asked, with a quizzical but immeasurably fond smile from the doorway. “You know I am happy to do that for you, if ever you want it done.”

Thranduil spent quiet a lot of time in their little house in Dale, like now, Bard was busy doing things that Tilda didn’t quite understand but knew it had to do with his duties as king, so Thranduil kept her and Bain and Sigrid company at home. Da didn’t like leaving them alone, not after everything that had happened. Tilda remembered the look on da’s face when Thranduil had said he would be here with them whenever he needed or wanted, Tilda hoped someone made her look like that one day.

“I wanted to learn how to do it myself but it’s tricky because I can’t see and my arms get tired when I hold them up like that for a while ‘cause it takes me a long time to do it. And even then it isn’t any good.” Tilda sighed.

Thranduil walked gracefully into her room – Tilda hoped she would learn to walk like that one day – and collected up her brush and ties.

“You can practice on my hair, it is long and doesn’t knot easily. And if you sit on the armchair while I am on the floor, your arms shouldn’t tire either.”

“Really? You don’t mind?”

“Of course not _pen-neth_.” He reassured with a warm smile, Tilda beamed up at Thranduil as he rested a hand atop her head and gently nudged her downstairs.

Thranduil folded himself down onto the floor, elegantly leaning back against the armchair as Tilda hopped up onto it.

“Now, only start with a few sections, you’ll need to get a little better, and perhaps grow bigger hands before you can braid all of my hair at one.” Thranduil instructed easily, passing back the brush.

Tilda concentrated really hard and separated a few sections of his long silvery hair as neatly as she could. He guided her through the braid, seeming to know what she was doing despite not being able to see before passing her a tie to finish off.

“It’s not very good.” Tilda grumbled, a little embarrassed to have messed up Thranduil’s hair, “I can’t get all the bits of hair to stay in the same place, and it’s all messy and I’m sorry for messing up your hair.”

“It’s fine, _pen-neth_. My hair is notoriously difficult to tangle up. Besides that was your very first attempt, you can’t expect it to be perfect, I have been doing it for thousands of years. And do you know what the best part about me having so much hair is?” Thranduil asked, voice playful and a happy smile resting on his lips.

“It’s really pretty?” Tilda tried, getting a soft laugh out of Thranduil.

“I thank you for saying so, and yes that is good. But it is not the best. The best part.” Thranduil continued, reaching behind himself and sectioning off another set of strands. “Is that there is plenty more of it for you to practice with.”

Tilda smiled shyly and took the offered hair before starting over.

A little while later, Thranduil had four braids of increasing quality scattered around in his hair, and Sigrid walked into the room.

“Um, what’s happening?” She enquired with an amused smile at the look of sheer concerntration on Tilda’s face, and Thranduil’s serene contentment.

“I am helping your sister learn to braid hair.” Thranduil answered simply.

“Can I help?” She asked with a smile.

“Yes.” Tilda piped up. “I need you to hold this piece of hair while I twist the other bit. I can’t hold it as well without dropping it.” Sigrid laughed and scooped up Tilda, plopping down and perching Tilda on her lap.

Another fifteen minutes later and there were a few more, neater braids littering Thranduil’s hair, including some Sigrid was weaving little flowers she had picked into. Bain walked into the room before stopping short at the sight and grinning.

“I was just looking for you actually.” He announced, sitting himself down on the floor next to Thranduil.

“Oh yes?”

“Yeah. I was hoping you could show me how to restring my bow? I don’t know how and me and da were going to go out to the woods tomorrow.”

“Of course I can.” Thranduil smiled, gesturing to the bow to take a look. He examined it with elvish precision before handing it back to Bain. “It shouldn’t be too difficult. Do you have the string?” Bain nodded and they got started, Thranduil occasionally breaking off to give Tilda or Sigrid a tip on his hair.

And that was the sight Bard came home to.

A content smile on Thranduil’s face, his hair littered with a mess of braids and little flowers courtesy of Tilda and Sigrid, as he helped with the finishing tweaks on Bain’s bow.

Bard’s heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest.

“ _Meleth nín_ _.”_ Thranduil greeted him, not moving because that would dislodge Tilda’s latest, now fairly sleepy, attempt.

“Hi love. Um, what’s going on?”

“I wanted to learn how to braid my hair and Thranduil said I could practice on him.” Tilda piped up, smiling tiredly and rubbing at her eyes, but looking very happy nonetheless.

“And I decided I didn’t want to miss out.” Sigrid added, still plaiting in flowers as Tilda slumped more and more against her. She would be a wonderful mother one day.

“And Thranduil was helping me learn how to restring my bow so we don’t have to delay our trip tomorrow.” Bain explained, brandishing his newly-strung bow like a badge of honour.

Thranduil was looking at them all in a way that spoke volumes about how he felt about their little family.

Bard was lost for words, he simply couldn’t put into words the way he felt seeing them all. But he knew with the look Thranduil sent him that they were feeling the exact same thing.

Tilda chose that moment to let out a huge yawn.

“Time for bed, young lady, I think.” Bard smiled, running a hand over her head affectionately.

“But da, I’m not done. And I’m not even tired yet.” She complained, even though it was obviously not true, she was practically asleep where she was leaning against Sigrid.

“It’s okay. You can practice some more tomorrow.” Thranduil promised, standing and scooping Tilda out of Sigrid’s lap and letting her curl in against his chest as he gently carried her back up to her bedroom, Bard followed, heart in his throat as Thranduil set her down and tucked her in.

He leant down to press a soft kiss against her forehead and little arms looped around his neck, bringing him in for a hug.

“Night ada.” Came a half asleep voice as Tilda released Thranduil and settled down into her bed.

Thranduil faltered, staring down at Tilda in disbelief before locking his eyes with Bard. Bard knew the smile that was practically splitting his face was mirrored on his own. And as Thranduil launched himself into Bard’s arms, he knew the tears that were licking at both of their eyes were ones of sheer happiness.

In bed, Bard carefully loosed the braids in Thranduil’s hair, running his fingers through the length of it, dragging his blunt nails lightly across his scalp in the way he knew he loved. Thranduil sighed into his hand as they settled down into sleep.

Neither of them could keep the smiles off their faces even as they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [This fic has now been blessed with beautiful art that it will never be worthy of <3](http://physiquement-intelligent.tumblr.com/post/109805040602/a-little-something-inspired-by-the-fic-a-thousand)


	14. Waking Up In Vegas AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> OMG! Barduil waking up together in las Vegas, with a killer hangover and matching wedding bands. I can't even give you more details bc it just came into my mind like a train. Ok, it's way easier for me to come up with au prompts (feel free to ignore)
> 
> Rated: E

 

Until now, Bard had worked for Thranduil for nearly two years now, and almost without incident (unless you counted hopelessly pining and drooling over the boss ‘incident’).

Thranduil didn’t exactly help his little crush, being the way he was, and looking the way he did – not to mention the almost constant flirting and teasing, but Bard was fairly sure he did that with everyone. Not that he ever saw Thranduil around anyone else.

But still, Thranduil owned a casino and Bard was just one of his many bouncers. Not that he requested many of the others personally escort him around so much. But then, he seemed to take amusement from the way Bard didn’t take any of his shit. Always trying to rile him up and get him into trouble.

Could you get into trouble when it was the boss encouraging you to do stupid shit?

Bard’s current situation would indicate that yes, yes you can.

His current situation being in the room Thranduil kept for himself in the casino, naked as the day he was born, head thumping in a way that made him want to _die_. And with said boss lying equally as bare next to him, covers pooled low on his back, arm tossed over Bard’s waist, drooling on his stomach.

And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was how very, very aware Bard was of the plain wedding band around his ring finger.

And the matching one on Thranduil, cold against his bare chest.

 _Fuck_.

It’s not that he didn’t want to be married to Thranduil, sure he’d like to date the man first, but frankly he was already practically in love with the man and would take whatever he could get.

No, the problem was that he was fairly certain that Thranduil did not want to be married to a boring, poor bouncer with three kids. Having said that, Thranduil had given the bouncers a pretty significant pay rise recently, so he hadn’t been struggling financially so much lately. But Thranduil was like, a _billionaire_.

Bard was scruffy and always had something in his hair that was almost always at least a little but greasy, and Thranduil was, well, _Thranduil_.

Unfortunately Bard could not see a way out of this without getting fired, and humiliated. The worst part we he couldn’t even remember any of it. What the hell had they been drinking?!

Bard slipped himself out of the bed, doing his very best not to wake Thranduil up and starting to slip on some trousers – he didn’t even try to find his underwear, god only knows where they had gotten to.

He thought he had been successful in not waking Thranduil, until he hear a loud groan from the bed.

“Ugghh. My _head_. Oh my god!” Thranduil exclaimed, Bard looked up sheepishly, but only to find Thranduil’s eye’s drinking in the sight of him appreciatively, Bard blushed when he realised he was only half tucked into his trousers.

Bard tried not to stare back, but the sheets had shifted as Thranduil sat up and were now leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. And if there was such a thing as a pretty cock, that was it. Nestled in surprisingly dark hairs, it was perfectly proportionate to the rest of him – Bard’s mouth may have been watering.

He noticed Thranduil smirking at him, having caught him looking. He swallowed thickly and tried to find his voice. But Thranduil beat him to it.

“I cannot believe it!” Thranduil shouted, flinging himself back on the bed dramatically – Bard was well aware by now how much of a drama queen he was; but that didn’t mean he wasn’t genuinely pissed.

And really, he had just woken up married to his bouncer, he was probably allowed to be a little hysterical. But he didn’t _seem_ hysterical, maybe that was just wishful thinking. Oh god Bard could not afford to lose his job.

“Thranduil, I’m so s–”

“I cannot believe it!” Thranduil lamented again and Bard cringed at the confirmation that Thranduil did not in any way shape or form feel even remotely the same.

He went to gather up more of his stuff, but before he could move, Thranduil piped up again from the bed.   

“Seriously! I finally get you into bed and I don’t remember a damn second of it!”

Wait, what?

“Uh, what?”

“Please, I’ve wanted in your bed since the day you first showed up as my new bouncer. Do you seriously think I willingly spend that much time with just anyone?”

“Uh…”

“Oh god, you did. Of course you did. I did wonder why you were drooling over me but never doing anything about it.”

“I didn’t kno–”

“What the hell is this?” Thranduil asked, inspecting the ring on his finger and quickly slipping his eyes over to spy a matching one on Bard’s hand. “Did we get married last night?”

“Uh, maybe, I don’t really remember.”

“Honestly, it’s ghastly, you’ll have to let me buy you a better one.”

“Wait,” Bard said, finally finding his voice properly again. “You don’t want to get a divorce?”

“Well, I seriously doubt we actually got married, this certificate looks pretty fake, they were probably just playing along with us. I do have them under strict instructions not to marry people who are roaringly drunk” Thranduil explained, looking down at the marriage certificate. “But if a ring is what it takes to get you into bed…” He finished with a leer and Bard, still only half dressed.

“You don’t need a ring to get me into bed.”

“No?”

“No. Not that I’m saying I don’t ever want a ring, cause, well, yeah.” Bard finished awkwardly, scratching the beck of his neck and wondering how this was his life.

“In which case, are you going to get back over here, and make sure I remember it this time. Or are you going to continue standing there looking like a delicious but generally lost puppy?” Thranduil smirked.

And it was that self-assured, challenging and teasing tone that had Bard heading back over the bed, losing his trousers on the way.

He’s was going to make damn sure the cocky bastard remembered it.

He dragged Thranduil up, hand’s either side of his beautiful face and sealed his lips over Thranduil’s soft, red mouth. It wasn’t gentle, it was biting and sucking and consuming, Thranduil was letting Bard practically fuck his tongue into his mouth, dragging him down onto the bed as he scratched his nails down Bard’s back.

Bard shoved at hand up into that perfect silken hair and gave it a tug, and from the way Thranduil was moaned into his mouth, that was the correct thing to do. He pulled at his platinum hair to bear the long column of Thranduil’s pale throat before latching his mouth onto it and mudding it with a biting kiss.

Thranduil yanked Bard down desperately and starting grinding his hips up in aborted little movements.

“A little desperate are we?” Bard teased, teeth nipping around Thranduil’s ear, which seemed to be a particularly sensitive spot for the other man; it made him whimper, hips bucking up furiously and getting a growl out of Bard in return.

Bard stroked a hand down the length of Thranduil’s lithe body, deliberately avoiding the throbbing cock standing against his stomach and making Thranduil moan and shift wantonly as his hand ran back up the soft insides of his thighs.

Finally, as Thranduil let out a particularly desperate whine, Bard wrapped his hand around his shaft and stroked him gently, and far too lightly to give him any real relief.

“Are you just going to tease me, or are you actually going to fuck me?” Thranduil goaded, but the effect was lost as he rasped it out between pants.

“Yeah, I’m going to fuck you.” Bard assured, nibbling on Thranduil’s ear lobe and reaching a hand into the bedside table, relieved to find lube there – well, it was technically Thranduil’s room.

He popped the cap and circled one finger around Thranduil’s tight pucker before pushing it in easily in one movement, Thranduil cried out and arched his back as he took in Bard’s finger easily.

“You like that? Taking me so easily. Look at you, practically begging for it.” Bard purred into Thranduil’s ear loving the expressions it was bringing onto his face as he spoke.

He slipped in a second finger and Thranduil groaned, opening up around his fingers and pushing his hips down onto his fingers.

“More.” Came Thranduil’s breathless voice, begging into the air. And well, who was Bard to deny him.

He started scissoring his fingers, working them in and out of Thranduil at a fast pace, absently searching for that sweet spot inside. He knew when he found it, Thranduil’s whole body jerked and a loud whine left his lips.

“Another.” Thranduil demanded not long after, and Bard obliged again, slipping in a third and stroking maddeningly over that little bundle of nerves, doing his best to ignore the throbbing weight of his own erection.

He sucked on Thranduil neck, working his way down to his nipple and biting down, smirking to himself as he got another sharp cry of pleasure out of Thranduil.

“Come on.” Thranduil ordered. “Now, want you now.”

“You’re a demanding little thing aren’t you?” Bard mused, even though Thranduil was technically taller than him, Thranduil glared making Bard laugh. “Condom?”

“Bedside draw.” Thranduil panted, biting down on Bard’s chest in a way that made him groan as he reached across.

Bard rolled the condom down his straining dick and slicked himself up before lining himself up at Thranduil’s stretched hole. He pressed in in one gentle, smooth thrust until his hips were flush with Thranduil’s plush bottom as Thranduil wrapped his legs around Bard’s back and pulled him in faster and tighter.

Bard grunted as he was hit by an onslaught of _hottightwetyes_ as he seated himself in Thranduil complete, pausing to steady himself and let Thranduil get used to the stretch.

“You alright?” Bard checked.

“Not unless you start moving right. Now.” Thranduil grit out, already rolling his hips up. Bard didn’t need to be told twice.

He started fucking into Thranduil in earnest, balls slapping obscenely against Thranduil’s ass with each thrust. Thranduil was vocal, Bard loved it, wringing the sounds out of the usually so composed Thranduil, especially the loud moans of his name as he changed the angle and hit his prostate on every thrust.

“Is that, all, you’ve got?” Thranduil teased out between pants, sweat glistening over his muscled torso. Bard picked up the pace again, fucking Thranduil hard and straight into the mattress, bed shifting slightly under them as they moved.

“More.” Thranduil begged again and Bard forced himself to go faster and harder still, getting more and more volume out of Thranduil with each thrust of his hips.

When Thranduil begged again, a mischievous glint in his eye told Bard that he was really only teasing him, but Bard had an idea anyway. Without warning he flipped them over, managing to stay inside Thranduil as he did. Thranduil looked down at him a little dazed, eyes almost completely engulfed by his pupils.

“Well, you going to ride me? Hmmm? Like the desperate little slut you clearly are?” Bard growled out, voice low and raspy with sex, snapping his hips up once to emphasise his point and make Thranduil gasp.

Thranduil smirked at him before starting to roll his hips, Bard planted his feet on the bed and bent at the knee so that he could thrust his hips up to meet him every time. Thranduil was setting up a punishing pace; hands braced on Bard’s chest and fucking himself back onto his cock in earnest.

Thranduil threw his head back, hair falling around him, panting and moaning as he worked himself on Bard’s cock. Bard could feel himself hurtling towards the edge, knowing he wasn’t going to last much longer he reached a hand for Thranduil’s weeping cock, but Thranduil quickly batted it away.

“Mmm almost there.” Came Thranduil’s strained voice as he worked himself to an untouched finish.

“Going to come untouched? Just on my cock.” Bard teased up at Thranduil, who just whined and forced himself to go a tiny bit faster in a final bursts of effort.

Bard thrust his hips up once, twice more and came hard, wrapping his mouth around one of Thranduil’s pert nipples and pulling him over the edge with him with a strangled cry of Bard’s name.

Now wasn’t that a sound Bard fully intended on hearing again and again.

They collapsed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs, Thranduil practically smothering Bard into the mattress; he found he didn’t mind one bit. Before he could fall into his post-coital nap he quickly tied of the condom and wiped down Thranduil, who hummed contentedly, before falling back into bed and having the other man promptly curl into his chest.

The second time they woke up that day was far pleasanter than the first, but ended in much the same way.

As did the third.

And the fourth.


	15. Thranduil gets jealous as the women of Dale attempt to attract their king

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thrandy & Bard keeping their relationship secret & it's some time after the BOFA & Dale is slowly starting to look up so people are all like 'king needs a queen' and a lot of them are trying to get into Bard's pants & one day there's like a feast bc yay "diplomatic" visit from mirkwood & someone tries to get w/ Bard & Thrandy gets really angry & possesive & makes a huge scene complete w/ death threats to the poor soul and dramatic love declarations & Dale people (& Bard too) are just like "???" while the elves are just smirking among themselves. Bonus points if Legolas is there just facepalming in the background. 
> 
> Rated: G

 

Bard and Thranduil had been together for a year now, it had started the night before battle, nowadays generally referred to as ‘The Battle of the Five Armies’.

Bard knew they were together, he knew loved the Elvenking, and he knew the sentiment was returned, of that there was no question. What he didn’t know was exactly _what_ they were.

Were they courting? Were they consorts? Paramours? Lovers? Well, he knew they were lovers, but beyond that Bard was unsure. They had been keeping their relationship a secret ever since it began, not wanting to deal with the pestering and diplomacy that would come along with such a public union. Especially not when it had been in its fragile early stages.

At first they had agreed on nothing serious, happy to find comfort from their loneliness in each other. They had loved each other as friends, now it was much more.

But they didn’t talk about it, Bard was not blind to the implications of Thranduil loving a mortal man. So if Thranduil did not wish to talk about it, to dwell on the implications, then Bard was not going to make him. And the discussion of whether they should make their relationship public would definitely bring these things up.

Bard assumed that Thranduil did not want their relationship to be public knowledge because he would not be able to easily leave if he did. Much as the notion hurt Bard deeply to think about. He would wholly understand if one day Thranduil simply decided that he could not do it, could not deal with the heartache that would inevitably come in the future.

In general they did not look to the future, not past their next meeting. That way sadness lay.

However, because they did not talk about it, and they kept it to themselves, Bard found himself in an awkward situation. That situation being that the people of Dale were starting to mumble about their king needing a queen.

Bard was ninety-nine percent sure that he and Thranduil were completely exclusive, again not something they had explicitly spoken about, but visible in their every interaction, every letter and every time they told each other that they loved one another. But to be honest, it was almost irrelevant as Bard had eyes and interest only for his king.

So as the women of Dale started parading themselves around in front of Bard in an attempt to garn his attentions, he was at a bit of a loss as to what to do, although he really wished they would stop. He gently and courteously rejected each and every young lady that came his way, and it worked for a while, but the people of Dale seemed to be getting slightly suspicious.

He had been informed of rumours that he was involved in a secret affair with various women around Dale; and indeed sometimes that he was involved with all of them at once. It was ludicrous. The ones he was rumoured to be secretly bedding were the only women who were not showing any interest in him at all. Well, he supposed that may well be why suspicion was being thrown against them in particular.

He was indeed having a secret affair, but his lover was decidedly neither of the race of men nor female.

Bard had decided not to bother telling Thranduil about the propositions he was getting with and increasing frequency. He did not see what it could possibly accomplish, and Bard couldn’t get the idea out of his head that Thranduil may encourage him to take a bride. It seemed unlikely that he would, but Bard couldn’t help the thoughts. Worst case scenarios plaguing him, no matter how improbable they were in reality.

He just couldn’t help being worried that one day, Thranduil would realise that loving a mortal was not worth it, and would leave him before he had to watch him head inevitably towards death. It was selfish, but Bard hoped deep in his heart that they would be together until his last breath. That he would never have to go back to life without his love.

So when Thranduil came to visit on a ‘diplomatic celebration’ he was unaware of all the people currently trying to get Bard to take them as his wife.

It was one year since the battle and reestablishment of Dale, the banquet they were holding was to celebrate both the victory and the fact that Dale was now almost completely restored after a year of toiling. Something that would not have been possible without the benefaction of the elves.

Bard also knew that the main reason Thranduil had suggested the occasion was so that they might spend a few days together without raising eyebrows, as it was common for visiting kings to stay with the hosting ruler. Even if Bard’s house was reasonably small, they were still able to hide behind tradition as Thranduil stayed.

And it wasn’t like his children did not know, they were in fact totally taken with Thranduil, and vice versa. The sight of Thranduil doting on his children was one that would warm him and he would cherish until he died.

So, he and Thranduil were seated together at the high table in the Great Hall, flanked by Legolas and Bard’s children and a few officials, while the inhabitants of Dale and many from Mirkwood were crammed into the rest of the room on long tables.

Bard and Thranduil each made a speech; Thranduil’s was unsurprisingly far more eloquent than his own rambling of thanks and gratefulness. But Thranduil’s small, personal smile as he spoke stopped Bard from feeling at all self-conscious. No matter what crap he said to the room, Thranduil knew exactly how much he meant to him.

After the speeches everyone tucked in to the banquet (most of which had been provided by Thranduil). It was amusing to watch the people of Dale attempt to use their best table manners, so as not to offend the elves, until eventually giving up and digging in the way they normally would. Most of the elves just looked amused, smiling more easily with a few goblets of wine in them.

Bard and Thranduil were able to create their own little bubble among the noise of the room. It is interesting how often the biggest, busiest events were often the ones that afforded the most privacy.

Had anyone been looking close enough, they would have seen intimate smiles, uncharacteristically soft eyes and the occasional gentle brush of hands. But no one was looking for it, so they didn’t see it.

Bard imagined no one would believe it even if they could see it.

Which is why Miss Gwyneth, one of the ladies that was attempting to find herself a place in Bard’s bed, did not think anything of all but propositioning Bard right there. To be fair to her, apart from the fact that his lover was in fact sat right next to him, she wasn’t doing anything particularly out of the ordinary.

The peoples of Dale were a lot of things, subtle was not one, so they didn’t bother pretending that they were.

“My King.” She said with a polite but ultimately coyly, all but batting her lashes at him. “I was hoping that you might allow me to warm you bed tonight. And perhaps all the nights to come.”

Bard watched, embarrassed, as Thranduil’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead in shock, Bard blushed finding the words to tell her no, but before he could, the expression on Thranduil’s face darken and hardened.

“You would presume to proposition your king in such an impertinent way?” Thranduil publicised, voice loud and uncaring of the way it turned the room’s attention to them.

“My lord?” Gwyneth asked confused. Bard wanted to step in and defend her, but Thranduil carried on and Bard simply couldn’t find any words.

“Do you presume to one day become his wife? Do you not think that as _King_ , he may well have let you know if he had any interest in you whatsoever? Therefore making it both insolent and disrespectful for you to proposition him in such a way?” Thranduil continued, voice cold.

“I am sorry my lord. I did not realise I was out of line, I mean, uh, I am hardly the only one to approach the king in this way?” Gwyneth answered unsure, Bard had to hand it to her for not completely crumbling under that glare.

“Are they now.” Thranduil practically seethed, looking at Bard with what Bard could swear was jealously in his eyes.

“Uh, yeah, I wasn’t sure what to do and I didn’t want to be rude?” Bard blushed. “I couldn’t exactly say I was spoken for already.” Bard admitted the last bit quietly, so that only Thranduil’s elf ears would pick it up.

Thranduil face softened at Bard before turning back to the room stonily.

“I hope you are paying attention. For I will not repeat myself.” Thranduil had the command of the room, voice dangerously set and eyes practically glaring daggers into the room.

The people of Dale looked stunned and a little scared, but Bard could swear the elves were smiling. It would not surprise him if they had picked up on their relationship already, they were perceptive beings after all. And he imagined discretion when you had a king like Thranduil was not an option.

“You will cease any and all advances towards your king. Your king, is well and truly _spoken for_. He is completely, truly and utterly consuming loved. And he will continue to be that way until the end of his days. One week from now, fifty full years from now, it does not matter, my love will endure. So if one, single person presumes to proposition him again, that individual will be faced with my wrath; and that is not something you will enjoy or survive. Are we clear?”

Thranduil spoke with a cold malevolence, and Bard couldn’t find it in himself to care about the shock of the people of Dale or even feel bad for the terrified faces of Gwyneth and the others who had been aiming at his bed. He could bring himself to care because all he could think about was how much he truly _loved_ the ridiculous elf stood next to him. How much his heart was exploding as Thranduil declared publically and unashamedly his love, and Bard was desperate to do the same.

He rose from his chair and pulled Thranduil into a deep kiss, uncaring for etiquette, or the picture they made or what anyone thought. All he cared about in that moment was making sure Thranduil knew, beyond any doubt, that he felt the same. That he too loved beyond any logic or reason or doubt.

Thranduil met him in the kiss easily, bringing his long arms up to wrap around Bard’s back as Bard’s hands cupped Thranduil’s beautiful face.  The kiss was long and passionate and probably with a little too much tongue considering they had an audience. But they didn’t care, caught up in the kiss and each other and their own little world.

When they finally broke apart, beaming at each other like complete idiots they were reminded that they were not alone by a small, shocked and somewhat tentative round of applause.

The citizens of Dale were clearly unsure how to react, and so they apparently decided on a little clap. And Bard could swear he heard a wolf-whistle from somewhere.

Bard was sure he was blushing the shade of a tomato, but Thranduil took the lead and gave a small incline of his head before sitting back down, and Bard followed suit.

As Bard sat he saw a couple of things out of the corner of his eye. One was Tauriel getting handed a few little bags of money from the other elves – had they _seriously_ been betting on when they would announce their relationship. Well, Bard figured, when you’re that ancient you got your kicks where you could find them.

The other thing he saw was Legolas groaning into his hands on Thranduil’s left. Maybe he was embarrassed. But more likely, from the coins he was handing to a smug Tauriel, he had just lost a bet.

Before long the people of Dale calmed down, various people offering congratulations. They took it easily and surprisingly happily considering that it meant none of them would be getting in with the king. But then, close relationship with the Woodland Realm would only benefit them, so maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

Things went on as if nothing had happened, except now Thranduil held Bard’s hand firmly in his own atop the table, and he showed no signs of ever letting go.


	16. Thranduil curling up around Bard like a cat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thranduil just reminds me of my cat, and I have this little head canon, that he sometimes just walks right into Bard's study and crawls in his lap and folds all that tall Elven glory he is awkwardly around him and begins to doze off, demanding belly rubs. And he won't care in the slightest i there's anybody else present.
> 
> Rated: G

 

Bard was lounging back on his old ratty sofa in their little house in Dale, reading some papers. It was still quite early in the morning, he’d left Thranduil in his bed; although it was pretty much their bed at this point. Thranduil would visit Bard in Dale, and then Bard would go with him to Mirkwood. Essentially they lived together just in two different places.

Bard’s children were now grown and perfectly capable of looking after themselves, Sigrid even had her own family, although she insisted that she would always need her da. That always made him smile.

Thranduil walked sleepily into the room, loosely dressed in his robe and probably not much else, as he didn’t usually bother to put pyjamas on if he had lost them during the night. And he had most definitely lost them last night.

Thranduil drifted over to him and Bard shuffled back on the soft, making a little spot of Thranduil between his legs. He’d been with him long enough now to know what Thranduil was going to do, just by the way he was walking and smiling sleepily.

Sure enough, the Elvenking climbed onto the sofa and curled all his longs limbs up. Making himself smaller than should be possibly be as he wrapped himself into Bard, tucking his head under Bard’s chin and settling down in his very feline way.

Bard brought his hand up and started petting and stroking Thranduil’s hair, as he nuzzled his head into Bard’s hand and practically purred, settling back down sleepily.

Unable to resist, Bard put own his reading and petted Thranduil’s smooth stomach, rubbing soft little circles on it, it was no time at all until Thranduil was breathing deeply and snoring gently against Bard’s chest.

Bard kept up his ministrations, knowing that if he stopped Thranduil would likely wake with a disgruntled little rumble, and Bard would be lying if he said he didn’t love the way Thranduil would curl up around him like this.

Eventually someone knocked on the door, Bard called out as gently as he could for them to enter, even though he knew Thranduil would wake up at the intruder anyway, just to check who he was.

And indeed, as Percy walked in to discuss a quick bit of business Thranduil’s head popped up and checked who it was before snuggling back down and pushing his tummy gently into Bard’s hand to hint that he wanted his belly rub back.

Bard smiled softly down at Thranduil, who made a happy, sleepy, little noise as Bard’s hand resumed its movements.

“Should I come back later?” Percy asked, but it was just courtesy, this was hardly the first time this had happened. So Bard shook his head, unable to keep the smile off it.

Thranduil didn’t mind, and if Bard couldn’t do business while Thranduil was demanding his attention, he’d never get anything done.


	17. Thranduil uses his glamour to make it look like they are growing old together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Headcanon: Thranduil using his ability to alter his aspect to grow old with Bard even if Bard knows (and everybody knows) that he’s doing it just for him and loving him so much because doing this makes him feel normal. And when Bard dies, grey hair and wrinkled face, Thranduil can’t have the heart to go back to his normal aspect because silver hair and wrinkled face in the mirror every morning makes him feel as if Bard was still with him.
> 
> Rated: G

 

Bard was combing through his hair in one of Thranduil’s many mirrors, really the elf’s vanity knew no bounds Bard though with a fond smile. But with so many surrounding him so often, there was no way he could escape seeing the new grey hairs littering his head.

He knew that really, he still wasn’t very old, would likely have forty, maybe even a few more, years with Thranduil. But it wasn’t nearly enough, not for an elf, not compared to the eternity he wanted to give. And during that time he would age.

He would age and Thranduil would not, reminding him always of how he was going to eventually leave his love all alone in this world. And all the while, Thranduil would remain young and beautiful as he grew old and tired. It would become a stark reminder every day of what they were destined to lose.

Bard wanted to grow old _with_ Thranduil, but that was something he was never going to get.

“ _Meleth nín_ , what are you doing?” Thranduil asked coming into their bedroom behind Bard.

Bard jumped a little, not hearing him come in. You’d think he would be used to it by now, and normally he didn’t startle, but he hadn’t wanted Thranduil to see him looking through his hair, didn’t want Thranduil’s attention being draw to his aging. To what they both knew the future held, no matter how they may try not to think about it.

“Nothing, Darlin’” Bard lied, sinking into Thranduil’s arms as they wrapped around his middle, Thranduil hooking his chin on Bard’s shoulder and looking at the in the mirror.

“I think I would like to get our likeness done.” Thranduil murmured, the ‘so I can remember us like this.’ Went unsaid, as it always did. They never talked about the future. It would only make them sad.

“I think that would be nice. Before– well, just before.”

“Before what?” Thranduil asked, nuzzling into his neck. Bard didn’t answer, wishing he had never spoken, but Thranduil nudged him.

“Before I am old and ugly but you are still as young and beautiful as you always have been.” Bard sighed sadly, at the moment they cut quiet a fine figure, in the future it would only remind of losses to come.

“ _Melinden, le bain_. And you always will be to me. Even when you are winkled and grey.” Thranduil assured, kissing Bard’s neck.

Bard smiled sadly. Thranduil almost always spoke his endearments in elvish, and many of his compliments. So by now, Bard understood most of the elvish Thranduil spoke around him, so he understood when Thranduil called him beautiful, as he often did.   

When Bard had asked why, he had said they felt more sincere that way, and that the ways he could say ‘I love you’ in elvish were endless, just like all the ways that he loved Bard. Bard had blushed and smiled and made sure to tell Thranduil and show him in his every action that he felt the same.

“I know you will, love. But I just wish that we could grow old together. I do not like the thought of leaving you here all alone. It is not fair.”

Bard surprised himself by the honesty of his answer, feeling vulnerable as a tear slipped free, but safe, surrounded by Thranduil’s arms. He found himself unable to pretend that it wasn’t waying on his heart, making it heavy.

“No, it is not.”

______________

It was a couple of years later that Bard noticed.

He had never forgotten their conversation in front of the mirror. Maybe because the likeness that Thranduil had had painted was them in that exact position. Thranduil holding onto Bard from behind, chin hooked on his shoulder. It was informal, especially for a painting, it hung in their room.

Bard was running his fingers through Thranduil’s hair as his head was resting sleepily against his stomach. And he just noticed.

Thranduil’s hair had always been a silvery, fair, blonde. But now as Bard stroked through it, he saw thin streaks of actual white threading through it.

“Thranduil?”

“Hmmm.” He responded drowsily, from his position on Bard.

“Why are there white streaks in your hair?” bard asked tentatively, with no idea as to what the answer may be.

“I want to grow old with you as well.” Came Thranduil’s simple response.

“You didn’t, you didn’t find a way to give up your immortality?” Bard asked worried suddenly that Thranduil may have done just that. That would put him at risk of illness and disease, which was not a prospect Bard wanted to face.

“Alas, I could not find a way to do that. But know that if I could, I would.” Thranduil explained, looking into Bard’s eyes with a sure sincerity.

“No, you cannot think about giving your life up for me.” Bard objected.

“ _Meleth nín_ , I would give up anything for you. And I wouldn’t have been giving up my life, I would have been signing up for one, perfect one, with you. Rather than have it tainted by being followed by an eternity of sorrow.” Thranduil said it was such conviction, Bard new it was true. It made his heart sink knowing that he was going to die and condemned Thranduil to that lonely existence. He hated it.

“Then how?” Bard asked, running his fingers through the new white hairs.

“Half of my face and body is torn apart by scars that will never heal. I can make myself appear to age.” Thranduil clarified.

Bard felt a mixture of happiness and sadness that he wasn’t sure how to handle. He was happy they would at least seem to grown old together.

But he couldn’t but feel that Thranduil would be leaving himself with another scar to hide.

______________

Over the next few year, the elves of Mirkwood noticed the changing appearance of their King. They did not mention it. But Bard saw the sad looks they sent their king when he was not looking.

Years passed and Bard gained wrinkles, and so did Thranduil. His hair turned greyer, and Thranduil’s whiter. His movements got slower, and so did Thranduil’s. His steps grew unsteady so he began to walk with a cane, and so did Thranduil. His eyesight deteriorated and Thranduil stopped pretending to be able to see out of his left one.

They had their likeness taken every year. And Bard was able to watch them grow old together.

______________

He was in his eight-second year when he died, cradled against the chest of an equally old looking Thranduil, who weeped into his hair as he began to fade.

“I do not want you to go.” Thranduil cried softly, uncaring for the tears running steadily down his wrinkled face. “It is not fair.”

“No, it is not.” Bard answered, holding Thranduil’s hand, until he could no more.

______________

It had not been a difficult decision for Thranduil to make, he made it easily while watching his love searching his hair nervously for grey strands, as if he could hide his aging from Thranduil. He found it much harder to return to the way he was.

Thranduil never gave up the glamour of age, he could not go back to his smooth, ageless perfection. It felt too much like giving up Bard, leaving him behind and preparing to move on from him.

And Thranduil knew that that was something that would never happen.

He wore his age to remember his love.

He wore his age hoping that he may trick death. And it might come for him after all.


	18. Bard get's injured in a battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Hey! if you're still taking Barduil prompts, how about Bard getting injured during a fight and Thranduil getting all worried and upset. :)
> 
> Rated: G

 

Bard felt _so_ stupid. It wasn’t even a big fight, he’d lived through the Battle of the Five Armies with barely a scratch for gods sake. But no, on a little border skirmish with one solitary pack of orcs, then he manages to get hit.

He’d probably be in pain if he wasn’t so busy being annoyed at himself.

And it wasn’t even his border. It was Thranduil’s, they’d been in his study when Thranduil had been called away to see to some urgent matters in Rivendell, the trip was unavoidable and going to take him a few weeks.

Bard would usually go with him, but Sigrid was about ready to burst with her third child and Bard didn’t want to be away for that, Thranduil didn’t either, not wanting to miss the birth of what he wholly considered his grandchild, but he did not have a choice.

So he’d been flitting between Dale and Mirkwood keeping on top of things for Thranduil as well as keeping an eye on his own city. Since the dragon and the battle, things had been highly uneventful for the people of Dale, enjoying good relations with both Erebor and Mirkwood, they were flourishing. And all Mirkwood was having to deal with where the ungoliants and occasional orc packs.

Tauriel had come to him in his and Thranduil’s rooms to report an orc pack on their Southern border that needed to be dealt with, and Bard, in his infinite wisdom had decided to come along.

They didn’t normally experience a single fatal casualty in these battles, and well, Bard supposed he wasn’t dead yet.

Although Thranduil was going to absolutely kill him when he heard.

“My lord!” Tauriel exclaimed, running over to where Bard was collapsed against a tree, blood seeping through his clothes and dripping down his side, she looked very worried.

He felt a little delirious, maybe it was worse than he thought. Didn’t your mind stop you from feeling the full extent of your injuries sometimes as some kind of survival mechanism?

Tauriel started shouting things in elvish and the elves started dashing around, some heading in the direction of their halls, others in some random direction and a few more were coming towards him. There seemed to be more of them then before. But then, that might be because he suddenly felt very dizzy.

“My lord, can you keep your eyes open for me? Keep them on me.” Tauriel commanded

“I’s told you ‘fore. Bard. I’m’n you’ lord.” Bard spoke, but his voice was slurred even to his own ears.

Despite Tauriel’s orders and encouragements, he was unconscious before they reached the halls.

\-----------------

“Ugh. Where am I?” Bard groaned groggily as he regained consciousness, he could feel a hand holding tight onto his.

“ _Meleth nín_!” Came Thranduil’s relieved gasp.

Thranduil cradled Bard’s face with his hands. It looked like he had been crying, and the dark shadows under his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping. Thranduil buried his head into Bard’s neck, careful not to knock him with the rest of his body.

“Don’t you ever do that.” Thranduil cried into his neck.

Bard bought his arms up to hold his lover, aware of the dull pain in his right side.

“I’m sorry.” Bard whispered.

“I can’t – I can’t, not yet, you can’t do that to me. Please, I can’t – ” Thranduil sobbed into Bard, shaking in his arms, his glamour went down as he cried, unable to hold it up while being so upset.

“Oh gods, I know, I‘m so sorry, I won’t I promise.” Bard’s raspy voice choked out, heart in his throat as Thranduil shook in his arms.

Bard carefully edged himself to one side, making just enough room for Thranduil to slip in beside him and curl around his good side, tears trickling steadily down his beautiful, scarred face.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so _so_ sorry.” Bard’s still weak voice whispered as he held Thranduil as tight as he could, his own tears dampening that silken hair and trying to sooth him.

“How long was I unconscious?” Bard asked gently.

“Too long.” Was the broken response he got, Thranduil’s hands gripping onto him tighter. “I thought. Gods, I thought – It’s is too soon, I couldn’t, not yet. I thought – ” Thranduil whimpered, wincing in pain as the salt from his tears fell into his open scars.

Bard held Thranduil as tight as he could in his arms, burying his face in Thranduil’s perfect hair, murmuring how sorry he was, that he would never do it again, that he was still here, he wasn’t gone yet, he was right here.

Thranduil’s cries eventually softened and his shakes turned to occasional tremors. But his litany of what he thought, and that he couldn’t, and it was too soon continued until his voice was dry and gone through crying the words.

It twisted like a knife in Bard’s heart.

He knew it would always be too soon.


	19. Bard decides to give dating one last try

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where since Bard's wife died he hasn't felt comfortable being romantic with women because it feels like a betrayal so he's been exploring his bisexuality. The problem is he has terrible taste in guys and they're all awful like Alfrid and the Master. That is until he meets Thranduil and he decides to give dating guys one last try.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Ever since his wife died, Bard simply hasn’t been able to be romantic with another woman. It felt too much like betrayal, like he was trying to replace her or something. So he had only really been romantically involved with men since. For some reason it just didn’t seem like betraying his wife, maybe because men were so different.

It seemed silly when he thought about it, but then, who could really explain how their own mind worked?

But the problem was, Bard had terrible taste in men. Really it was _shocking_. There had been a guy who went by the Master, and really that should’ve been clue enough. Then there was Alfrid, and let’s not even go there. And then, god, he’d dated Denethor which had been a train wreck from day one.

So since then Bard had sort of sworn off of dating entirely, no matter how hard his kids tried to set him up.

But then in waltzed Thranduil.

A tall, blonde, beautiful asshole. His smirk could make you feel like you were two feet tall and about to be stepped on.

And _god_ did Bard want to be stepped on.

He had met Thranduil when the man in question brought his ridiculous Mercedes into his little garage with a list of demands the length of Bard’s arm.

“The heater is on the fritz, I think the oil need’s changing, the cleaner in the window washer is leaving streaky marks on the windows and take a look at the engine because I don’t think it is accelerating as fast as it used to. And obviously I expect you to wash and wax it was well.” He reeled off, pushing his sunglasses on top of his beautiful head.

“Anything else?” Bard asked sarcastically, wiping the grease off his hands on a rag and trying not to notice exactly how attractive the man in front of him was.

Which was difficult when said man was smirking at Bard’s snark and dragging his eyes up Bard appreciatively, making Bard feel like a small woodland creature in the sight of a wolf.

“Yes, actually. I’d like it done in two days.”

“Nu-un, never going to happen. I do have other cars you know.”  

“I know.” Thranduil said, advancing on Bard until he was right up in his space. “But I will be _very_ grateful.” Thranduil spoke almost directly into his ear, breath hot on the shell on his ear, lips practically dragging over the skin.

Thranduil pulled back and smirked at Bard’s open mouth and dilated pupils before sauntering out of the garage. Bard’s eyes followed him all the way.

Bard told himself he wasn’t going to do it, he wasn’t going to complete that arrogant bastard’s list of demands just because he suggested – what had he even suggested. Bard wasn’t sure but he knew he wanted it.

He wasn’t going to do it, it would put back his schedule for everything else and every other customer.

He did it.

Of course he did it.

Thranduil swaggered back into Bard’s little garage and walked around his Mercedes, inspecting the work while Bard stood awkwardly to the side.

Thranduil walked up to Bard and tucked a wad of cash into his trouser pocket and Bard tried desperately not to let his mouth drop open or take an audible inhale (he failed at both).

“Very good.” Thranduil purred into his ear, Bard swallowed thickly.

“You knew I would do it.” Bard commented as he felt Thranduil’s breath against his neck.

“I had certainly hoped.” Thranduil murmured, lips dragging against Bard’s neck, before sucking what would be a dark bruise and getting a little moan out of Bard that he would deny until the day he died.

“So what now?” Bard asked, voice thick as Thranduil’s hot breath ghosted across his neck.

“Get in.” Thranduil smirked, sliding into his car.

“It’s not closing time yet.” Bard pointed out dumbly.

“No, but it is your garage.” Thranduil stated with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous glint in his eye.

And as Thranduil dragged his eyes up Bard once more and licked his lips, Bard felt his resolved crumble.

He locked the door and climbed into the passenger seat.

Thranduil gave him that infuriating smirk once more and placed his hand high on Bard’s thigh tracing tempting little figures of eight on the inside, Bard couldn’t help the way his legs fell further open.  

He could give dating one last shot.


	20. Jewellery store and hunting store pining across the mall au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barduil prompt: modern day, mall outlet au. Bard works for a hunting supply store across the lobby from a jewellery store that Thranduil works at. They've been secretly pining after the other from across the mall but never acted on it.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Dale’s Hunting Supplies sat right across the hallway – mallway? – from The Gems of Lasgalen jewellery store.

It was bizarre really, a hunting store facing a jewellery store. The muddy browns and forest greens of the hunting shop Bard worked at, contrasted by the twinkling glass cases and crystal blues of the jewellery shop.

The shop stocked some of the most beautiful jewellery and gems Bard had ever seen (not that he had seen many).

But that was not what drew Bard’s eye every day.

No, that was in the form of the most beautiful thing the store could boast.

And that was its owner, Thranduil.

He was prettier than any woman Bard had ever laid eyes on, yet he had an edge, just like the hard diamonds he sold.

His hair was long and travelled down his back sometimes lose, sometimes in an intricate braid that would have Tilda begging him to show her. It was so blonde it was almost silver, complementing his pale skin tone perfectly. Only to be richly contrasted by dark, thick eyebrows atop piercing icy blue eyes that looked like they had stars caught in them.

He was tall, taller than Bard, but somehow not lanky. Broad shoulders and long legs that just went on and on.

Bard wanted to kiss his way up them.

He carried himself like he should be a king, regal, measured, and graceful. Never so much a brushing the jewellery despite the ridiculous ostentatious clothes he wore every day. Huge sprawling jumper-cardigan things that would be knocking everything over if anyone else tried to wear in it there. But Thranduil moved easily, almost lazily around his shop.

He was enchanting.

Well, Bard at least was enchanted.

Which is why he spent most of his days mooning over Thranduil from across the hall. Unable to take his eyes off him, and waiting pretty pathetically for his next glimpse whenever he went out of sight.

Luckily (for Bard) his store had some kind of dainty glass thing going on, meaning he could see straight into it and so never had to go without the sight of Thranduil for long.

God when did he become this pathetic.

He really needs to get laid.

By Thranduil, preferably.

(Only)

Occasionally (and hideously embarrassingly) Thranduil would catch him staring. Bard would blush and get all flustered and pretend to be looking at a bow or something, normally managing to knock a lot of stuff over in the process.

But when Bard had recovered and sneaked another red faced look over to Thranduil, he could swear he always had a little smile playing on his lips.

“You know.” Came Hilda’s voice next to him. “You could quit pining and just go ask him out.”

“I am not pining.” Bard protested, voice indignant.

(He was totally pining)

“And even if I was, which I’m not.” (he definitely was) “Then it would a) be none of your business and b) pointless because he’s probably straight.”

“The way he stares at your ass whenever you have your back to him begs to differ.” Hilda stated bluntly, giving him that no-nonsense raised eyebrow of hers.

Bard a fully grown father of three was blushing again.

“He does?” He asked, before cringing at his own ridiculous tone of voice. Honestly you’d think he was a teenager with their first crush.

Hilda rolled her eyes at him so hard Bard was worried they were going to fall out the back of her head.

“For god sake. Take your ass over the road and ask that man out. Go, get out, you’re done for the day. I will literally pay you as if you’re actually working if you just go get it over with.”

“You can’t pay me for working while I’m not here doing anything.” Bard objected.

“What, opposed to when you are here and staring across the hall all day like a lovesick puppy?”

“…Yeah?” Bard tried weakly, knowing he was losing this battle, you couldn’t win a battle against Hilda.

It’s not that he didn’t want to ask Thranduil out. Because he definitely did. He wanted to wine him and dine him and romance the pants off of him (literally and figuratively).

It was just that Thranduil was all, all _that_.

And Bard was just, well, Bard.

But Hilda was giving him that scary look and actually physically pushing him out the door. And in reality he was probably more scared of Hilda than Thranduil rejecting him.

(That was total crap he was petrified of Thranduil looking at him like he was an alien and telling him that he would obviously not go on a date with him)

Bard awkwardly (and pretty pointlessly) tried to smooth down the crinkled shirt that he was wearing (he couldn’t be bothered to iron it last night, now he was paying for that), and ran a hand through his messy hair (again, pointless) before braving his path over to Thranduil’s shop.

When he carefully pushed open the glass door Thranduil’s eyes glanced up, he then did a pretty dramatic double take and smiled quizzically at Bard.

“Um, hi?” Bard started and immediately wanted to smack himself in the face, but Thranduil smiled at him like he was endearing or something.

“And how can I help you today Bard?” He asked, voice smooth, lips quirked.

“I was hoping uh, wait, you know my name?” Bard asked a little shocked, they’d never actually spoken before.

“Does that surprise you?” Thranduil enquired with a smirk, and god his voice was like liquid silk.

“Um, yeah a little.” Bard admitted, and for goodness sake did he seriously sound shy?! He was a grown ass man. (And he was getting really excited about what Thranduil knowing his name might mean).

“Well, do you know my name?” Thranduil queried having moved slightly further into Bard’s space.

(Bard wanted him all over his space)

“Thranduil.” He replied, and Thranduil smirked like he was absolutely delighted that Bard did know after all.

“So, how can I help you today Bard?” He asked again, tapping a long finger on his lip which Bard’s eyes followed, until he realised he was staring at Thranduil’s mouth when he should probably be making eye contact.

He flicked his eyes back up quickly to where Thranduil was smirking again.

The bastard knew exactly what he was doing.

For some reason it gave Bard confidence as well.

“I was hoping I could take you on a date sometime.” He asked, not a waver in his voice, watching Thranduil with a challenge in his eyes instead. Thranduil returned the look with one glinting with mischief.

This was going to be fun.

“Does right now count as sometime?” Thranduil said, getting further in Bard’s space without ever seeming to have moved.

(Bard didn’t mind one bit)

“Right now?” Bard asked mock-innocently, much to Thranduil’s delight if his smirk was anything to go on.

“Right this second.” Thranduil continued, voice set low and sending sparks places that had no right sparking like that in public in the middle of the day.

Bard smirked right back at the taller man this time, grabbing his long slender hand in his own rougher one and heading to the door.

“Tauriel, watch the shop, I’m going out. Don’t know when I’ll be back.” Thranduil called to the red-head at the till.

“When will you be back?”

“Late.” Bard said with a wink.

“Late.” Thranduil repeated to Tauriel as he left the shop with Bard.

Bard saw Hilda mutter something that looked like ‘fucking finally’ as they walked past.

 

She was a very smug guest of honour at their wedding the next year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Apologises for the weird mixing of american and british-ness ~ but hey, neither is middle earth so does it really matter?) :p


	21. Thranduil is hungover and bitchy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> okay imagine this: the morning after an exceptionally hardcore elvish party thranduil has a terrible hungover and is mean to everyone including his boyfriend. Bard is really trying to help and is lovely and patient but finally the elf crosses the line by saying something really hurtful, maybe almost cruel. Bart decides he has enough and tries to leave but the second he takes a step towards the door Thranduil is already apologizing and begging him to stay because he does actually feel better with Bard around and “i didnt mean it stay please”. Bard is so surprised that the elf is actually capable of saying sorry (who knew he even knows that word???) that he stays and they spend rest of the day cuddling in bed. Yes.

 

Bard knew Thranduil was going to be especially bitchy this morning. He had thrown a truly exceptional party last night, but the most exceptional thing was by far the amount of wine Thranduil had managed to put away.

And Dorwinion wasn’t just strong, it was _strong_.

Like half a bottle you’re already tipsy. A whole bottle you’re pretty drunk. Two bottles and you’re barely standing.

So Bard could only imagine how Thranduil was feeling after no less than _four_.

It had been pretty amusing at the time. Thranduil was an overly affectionate drunk (at least to Bard) hanging off his shoulder and putting his hands places he really shouldn’t in public. And whenever Bard gently moved Thranduil’s grabby hands, Thranduil would make a disgruntled little noise and start giving him sloppy kisses instead – which Bard couldn’t help but laugh into as the elf kept missing his mouth.

Thranduil had been stumbling around refusing to go to bed, claiming as most drunk people did, that he wasn’t drunk and didn’t want to go to bed. Before trying to get his hands down Bard’s trousers again – right in the middle of the Great Hall.

But Bard was nothing if not resourceful and lured Thranduil to his large bedroom under the pretence of a blow job. And just as Bard had predicted, his elven boyfriend had been asleep almost as soon as he hit the ridiculously ornate and bed. Bard couldn’t blame him, the mattress was like a cloud.

Unfortunately, no matter how amusing Thranduil was when he was drunk, grumpy didn’t even cover what he was when he was hungover.

And gods was he hungover today.

“Ugh! Why is that breakfast not here yet I told them to fetch it ten minutes ago, didn’t I.” He bitched from where he was still sat in bed, arm flung over his eyes dramatically.

“Yeah, Thrand, you did. But this place is pretty huge, I’m sure they’re on their way.” Bard reasoned (much to Thranduil’s annoyance) as he sat at the desk trying to get a bit of work done.

“What are you even doing?” Thranduil whinged at Bard. “Aren’t you supposed to be tending to me or something? Isn’t that what lovers do when one of them is hideously ill.”

“You’re not ill, you’re just hungover. And while I have a bit of sympathy, in the end you did it to yourself and I have quite a lot of work to do. “ Bard said, coming to Thranduil’s side to place a gentle kiss on his forehead and pass him a new glass of water before heading back to the desk. “I am a king you know.” Bard joked trying to lighten Thranduil up a little.

“Well you’re not really a king are you.” Was the mean response he got instead.

Bard took a deep breath and let it go, it was just the hangover talking, and although he never apologised with words, he always made it up to Bard later.

“What could you possibly be doing anyway? There can’t be more than five hundred people left in Dale after you all failed to get out of laketown in time, honestly were you actively waiting for that dragon to kill you all?”

Just last night Bard had been Thranduil’s ‘Dragonslayer’. So he stoically ignored Thranduil’s comments.

When the unlucky elf burdened with bringing Thranduil his breakfast arrived a couple of minutes later Thranduil was just plain mean.

“Please continue to make as much noise as you possibly can.” Thranduil berated as the elf put down the tray, put down the tray pretty carefully as well, really not making much noise at all. “Honestly if you can’t even handle this simple task what hope is there. I’m demoting you clean up, I don’t want to see you in here ever again.”

“I’m sorry My Lord.” Came a barely audible timid voice.

“What is your name? Do you know what, I really don’t care, just get out.” Thranduil’s cold voice commanded from the bed. He wasn’t even looking at the breakfast he had demanded.

“Thrand, that wasn’t very nice. She didn’t do a single thing wrong.” Bard scolded lightly, being sure to keep his voice quiet and not agitate the Elvenking more.  

“Oh please, why would you even care. I don’t even know who it was. She’ll get over it.” Thranduil griped, unapologetic.

He was being even meaner than usual, even with a hangover. It was beginning to wear on Bard, especially as he really did have things he needed to get done, no matter how Thranduil might be belittling it.

“Well I do care. I don’t like seeing you be so cruel. I know how much you care for every single one of your subjects.”

Thranduil was quietly sulking for a little while until he found something else to bitch about.  

“Bard I know the people of Dale might not care, but honestly could you please at least brush your hair before coming to my parties in the furture.”

Last night Bard had been ‘looking good enough to eat.’ And Thranduil had almost ditched the party before it started, in favour of having Bard taking him up against the wall. Well, they had done that, but then bard had made them re-join the party rather than having round two.

Bard was starting to think that that was a bad idea. He might’ve escaped this sensational hangover.

“Bard why are you even here if you’re not going to talk to me. Why bother being here at all.”

“I’m beginning to wonder.” Bard muttered to himself, trying to tune out Thranduil’s hurtful comments.    

“Come to bed.” Thranduil demanded petulantly, sitting up in the bed. Bard ignored him. “I’m sure if you try really hard you can take my mind off my horrible headache.” He continued condescendingly.

“Thranduil I’m not having sex with you right now.” Bard responded, not looking up from his papers.

“Why not?”

“Because oddly enough, I really don’t find you being mean attractive in the slightest. Also, as I have already said, I am busy.” Bard explained patience somehow still lasting, managing to keep himself from snapping.

“Well what’s the point of you then?” Thranduil shouted, collapsing dramatically back down. “We both know you’re only here to satisfy me. Why else would I keep you around, all you do is sit there and work. At least you’re good a sex.”

And that. _That_. Was apparently Bard’s limit. He shot up, chair clattering loudly behind him and Thranduil flinched, but Bard’s didn’t think it was because of the noise.

He calmed himself down, not wanting to shout, but Thranduil’s words had cut deep. Far too close to all the genuine worries he had about what exactly he could give such an ancient and beautiful king really.

He knew Thranduil didn’t mean it. He hoped, maybe, god what if he did. What was that saying, ‘drunken minds speak sober hearts?’ Oh god, what if that was what Thranduil really thought?

No, Bard was not prepared to believe that. He wasn’t drunk, he was hungover and had a headache and was being bitchy.

And Bard had had enough. He’d go home, cool off, punish Thranduil with some silent-treatment, before letting him in when he came over never week and letting Thranduil make it up to him.

“I’m leaving. I can’t do this right now. I can’t deal with you right now.” Bard sighed, his anger fading into hurt rapidly.

He took on step towards the door and Thranduil was across the room, wincing at his headache from the quick movement but darting over to Bard anyway, panic written all over his face.

“I am so sorry, I didn’t mean it you know I didn’t mean it. Oh gods please don’t leave me, I don’t know why I said it, and it’s not true, its not! You’re the best thing about my day even if you’re just sitting there working. I love watching you work. I feel so much better with you around, I promise I’ll stop it, I’m not used to having anyone who even care what comes out of my mouth. I’m so, so, sorry. Gods please don’t leave me. I love you.”

Thranduil was practical on his knees, hands gripping onto Bard’s tunic tightly, refusing to let go. His eyes were watery as he looked at Bard, face was open, desperate and terrified and genuinely sorry.

When Bard got over the shock of Thranduil actually verbalising an apology, he realised Thranduil thought he was going to leave him for good, instead of just going home. Then finally his last three words sunk in.

A huge smile broke out across Bard’s face as he really computed Thranduil’s confession. They’d never said it before, Bard wasn’t sure Thranduil wanted to, given what their future inevitably held. Maybe that was why he was so scared of Bard leaving him before he absolutely had to. Terrified of wasted time.

He wrapped his own hands around Thranduil’s and squeezed, smiling at Thranduil’s increasingly confused face.

“Thrand, I only meant I was going home. I was still expecting you to visit next week.” He smiled at him.

“Oh.” Thranduil answered, slightly embarrassed, eyes shifting to the floor.

“And I love you too, by the way.” Bard smirked, using his hands to pull Thranduil up to standing.

The elf’s features relaxed and he dived in to seal his lips over Bard’s in a kiss, one which was made difficult as they were both smiling through it. It wasn’t a long kiss, Bard pulling back after not very long.

“This doesn’t mean I’m not still angry with you.” Bard admonished, but it was difficult when Thranduil was nuzzling into his neck, eye’s slightly damp.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said it. I just – please don’t leave me, I’ll be better I promise.” Thranduil begged and Bard’s heart broke a little at just how scared the Elvenking was, he wrapped him up in his arms and held him tightly against his chest.

“I’m not going anywhere darlin’. Don’t you worry about that. It was just a little fight, that’s all.” Bard practically cooed into Thranduil’s hair, Thranduil was shivering slightly, and Bard could feel a couple of tears seeping into his shirt.

“I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to waste time fighting, not when – I don’t want to fight.” Thranduil cried quietly, choking off his sentence.

_Not when they didn’t have very long. Not when Bard was going to die and Thranduil would not._

Thranduil wasn’t even able to say it, like putting it into words would somehow make it sooner, that they’d be unable to ignore it any longer.

It twisted like a jagged knife in Bard’s heart as Thranduil shook lightly in his arms.

Gently, Bard moved them back over to Thranduil’s bed and managed to lay them down on it without having to dislodge Thranduil from his chest.

They barely moved for the entire day, holding onto Thranduil and murmuring sweet nothings to calm him down. Then cuddling as Thranduil told him all the ways and all the reasons that he loved him, before allowing Bard to tell him as well, stupid grins on their faces the whole time.

They held each other and laughed and made love and were just so _happy_.

But for Thranduil it could only be temporary.

It was so devastatingly temporary.


	22. Bard thinks he is too inferior for Thranduil but Thranduil disagrees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard doesn't know how to deal with his feelings for Thranduil, and feels inferior to him because all his life he has been a bargeman, so he avoids Thranduil's attentions as best he can until Thranduil finally corners him. 
> 
> Rated: G

 

It was ridiculous really, for him to even _entertain_ the idea that Thranduil was interested in him romantically. He was so incredibly, unfathomably, inferior. Thranduil was a beautiful, ancient, Elvenking, and Bard was just Bard. A bargeman for god’s sake.

He needed to get a grip.

Thranduil was probably just spending time with him because he was about to be the next king of Dale, most likely he was only trying to foster good relations between Dale and Mirkwood.

And even if he did return Bard’s feelings – which he didn’t – then how was Bard ever going to come close to deserving and being good enough for someone like Thranduil. But it didn’t matter because Thranduil didn’t feel that way.

Then again, he had been spending a lot of time with Bard. And there was the almost mischievous eye contact, and the lack of personal space…

Get. A. _Grip_.

Bargeman. Elvenking. Never going to happen. Seriously.

Bard needed to stop reading into his attentions before the Elvenking realised and abandoned Dale for good.

The problem was, since he had recognised his feelings towards the king might not be completely platonic, whenever Bard was around him he got a little flustered.

When it had been constant perils from dragons and armies, Bard hadn’t had time to register Thranduil as anything other than a helpful ally. (Okay, so he also noticed that he was a very beautiful ally, but it had hardly gotten out of the general observations stage).

But now, now, Thranduil was still here with his elves, helping them to rebuild Dale and Bard was noticing things. Like how devastatingly beautiful he was, how soft his hair looked, and how smooth and long his hands were.

And once he had noticed these things, he couldn’t un-notice them, any more than he could stop getting distracted by them.

Thus started Bard’s strategy of avoidance.

If he wasn’t around Thranduil, he couldn’t accidently reveal his stupid and inappropriate crush, and the relationship between Dale and Mirkwood wouldn’t suffer because of his foolishness.

Well, that and he was a massive scaredy cat.

So when he saw the Elvenking headed towards him, he deftly and subtly (he hoped) ducked into a tent, made himself busy or scarce, asking Percy to deal with the Elvenking on his behalf and send his apologies.

It was working for him.

Apart from the fact that now he actually missed being around Thranduil and had definitely been caught staring a couple of times. Dammit.

Honestly, a _bargeman_ lusting over an Elvenking. It was ludicrous. It could also get him and by extension his people if Thranduil found out and took it badly.

So anyway, policy of avoision and evasion going well(ish).

That is, Bard though it was going well, until he was cornered while hauling around rubble by said Elvenking.

“Dragonslayer, why do you avoid me?” Came Thranduil’s rich voice, Bard jumped and whirled around to face him.

“Uh, I’ve not been avoiding you.” Bard tried, but they both know it was a lie.

“If you wanted me to stop my advances, you need only have asked. I admit I am dismayed, but I promise Dale will not suffer for it. I apologise if I made you uncomfortable, I was sure you felt– well, it doesn’t matter now. I hope we may part as friends.” Thranduil said quietly, his voice was somewhat disheartened.

And wait, what had he just said?

“Hu? What are you talking about?” Bard asked confused (or at least scared by what he thinks Thranduil might be suggesting).

“Your withdrawal from me. I assume I made you uncomfortable with my attentions and wishes. I had believed you to feel similarly, regretfully that is clearly not the case, so I ask that we may part in friendship.” Thranduil rephrased and _what_.

“ _What_?”

“Must I spell it out? I must say I had you down as far less oblivious and more intelligent than this.”

“ _You’re_ interested in _me_?” Bard asked incredulously. Thranduil looked at him like he was an idiot. He probably was.

“Yes. And your avoidance had made your feelings quiet clear, I merely came to offer m– ”

“I was avoiding you so I didn’t do something foolish like kiss you ridiculous face and ruin the relationship between Dale and Mirkwood forever.” Bard cut in.

They stood there staring at each other in a stupefied silence for a few moments.

“So you– ” Thranduil started, trailing off in an unasked question.

“Yes. And you– ” Bard answered before asking the same thing.

“Yes.”

“But why.” Bard blurted, unable to stop himself, Thranduil looked at him curiously.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean, why on earth is an ancient, beautiful, Elven _king_ , interested in a grubby bargeman from nowhere town?” Bard exclaimed, hardly able to believe it and completely unable to understand it.

Thranduil looked surprised for a moment before his perfect, regal features settled into a smile.

“Yes you are a bargeman. But you are also a Dragonslayer. And I happen to like your rugged appearance. I wonder what a man as quintessentially _alive_ as you could possibly see or want in something as cold and static and aged as me. _King_ of Dale.” Thranduil responded, challenging yet genuinely curious.

“You? _You_ are, gods I can’t even describe what you are. I have seen you in battle and you are certainly not static, you fought like it was a dance, a deadly dance at which you would not be beaten.

“And _cold?_ You dare to call yourself such a thing when you fought so hard for the things that you love, I saw the look that painted your face as you saw your fallen warriors and it was not one a cold man could ever muster.

“Aged, aye. You are I can see it in your eyes as bright as the stars that seem to shine from them. You are more beautiful than any young maiden or strapping warrior and you carry yourself with a grace and elegance that is simply _enchanting_. You are simply enchanting.”

Bard almost ranted, unable to see how Thranduil could possibly even wonder at how anyone as plain as Bard could feel for him, when Bard wondered at how it was that everyone in the world _didn’t_ marvel at Thranduil. It was impossible to him.

“You are enchanted by me?” Thranduil asked, lips quirking and eyes glinting as he advanced into Bard’s space.

“Utterly captivated.” Bard replied honestly, eyes dragging over Thranduil as he got closer. Close enough to touch.

Gods Bard wanted to touch.

“Well, that is a relief. For you have me wholly mesmerised, Dragonslayer.” Thranduil murmured, and his lips were so close that Bard could feel his breath ghosting along his own lips.

“Really?”

“Truly.”

Thranduil closed the final distance between them, sealing their mouths together in a searing, deep kiss as Bard gripped his beautiful gown to pull him closer still.

They kissed until a very surprised elf found them, needing to make a report.

After a little while, it didn’t surprise anyone at all when the King consorts of Dale and Mirkwood were found kissing each other soundly.

In fact it became more surprising for them to be found when they weren’t.


	23. Snowballs and Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from [TouchoftheWind](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TouchoftheWind/pseuds/TouchoftheWind)
> 
> Propmt: After BotFA Thranduil takes some of the people of Laketown back to Mirkwood with him as with winter coming early those who are ill, injured, elderly or children might not survive. Bard’s children were taken under the wing of Thranduil himself and has given the children one of the most fun winters in a good while- full of snowball fights and hide and seek…this has helped to heal some of the horror of the battle that the children witnessed and Bard couldn’t be more thankful to the King.
> 
> Rated: G

 

As much as Bard hadn’t wanted his children to go, it had in the end been a simple decision. Dale was a ruin, they were facing a harsh winter and Bard had known the winter was going to claim the more vulnerable lives just as surely as the dragon and battle had.

Thranduil and the elves had been helping them rebuild, but the process was a slow one, the elves needed to return to their own kingdom, and there still wasn’t sufficient shelter in Dale. Bard also knew that he was without a doubt going to miss the Elvenking.

He had found that he enjoyed Thranduil’s company possibly a lot more than he should, but if Thranduil’s relaxed smiles and little laughs that seemed reserved just for Bard were anything to go by, his affections were easily returned.

If they somehow managed to live out this winter, he promised himself he would try to court the Elvenking (however you did that). But right now he had bigger problems.

After all this hard won survival, he couldn’t let something as simple as winter wipe them out.

Bard had been fretting and pacing around in the little ruin he now called home, when Thranduil, sat in the corner sipping on his goblet of wine made the offer.

“Bard, please cease your pacing, it is tiring me out just to watch.” Came Thranduil’s amused voice.

“I’m just a little stressed.” Bard grumbled, trying and mostly failing to make his feet stop moving.

“You are not a little stressed, you are clearly very stressed. Now please, sit down and listen to me before you start to lose your hair over nothing.” Thranduil instructed, motioning to the chair just to the right of his own.

Bard sat himself down was an audible sigh, resisting the urge to bury his head in his hands.

“Good, I like your hair and would hate for you to lose it.” Thranduil smiled, Bard may have mumbled something about liking Thranduil’s hair too.

“Problem is, it isn’t nothing.” Bard sighed, racking his brain for solutions.  “We have children, many of whom are orphans, elderly and infirm and I have no idea how they’re going to survive the winter. I mean–”

“If you would be quiet for a moment and listen, you will hear my solution.” Thranduil interrupted calmly, before Bard could descend back into a panic.

Bard quietened down and looked at Thranduil, finding himself quickly lost in that flawless face as he so often did these days, he really was beautiful.

Bard couldn’t think what the Elvenking was going to suggest, he was sure he had gone through every possible solution in his head and found them all flawed, but still, he could hope at least.

“As you know we need to leave within the week.” Thranduil said, and he sounded almost sad about it, looking at Bard almost wistfully, Bard’s face probably reflected the same emotions, he really didn’t want Thranduil to go, for both selfish and unselfish reasons.

“Aye.” Bard responded with a little nod.

“I am offering to take all of your elderly, infirm and children with me for the winter.” Bard was pretty sure his jaw had just hit the floor staring at the king. “The abled bodied would stay behind with you where you can continue rebuild and not have to worry about sheltering so many. Parents are of course welcome to visit their children whenever they please, but I would ask you to send work so I can send some guards to escort you, the woods are a dangerous place for those who don’t know them.”

Bard just sat there staring at Thranduil in disbelief as if he was answer to every question in the universe. And well, to Bard, he was.

“Bard, could you please stop gawping and speak. Does this solve your problem?”

Bard did stop gawping, but instead of speaking he grabbed Thranduil’s robes and leant forward, kissing the Elvenking soundly.

When he got over his initial surprise, Thranduil responded to the kiss hungrily, bringing his own hands up to tangle in Bard’s coat. Bard traced his tongue along the seam of the elf’s lips and Thranduil opened for him easily, running his tongue along Bard’s as it delved into his mouth.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathing a little heavier and Bard couldn’t help but stare, mesmerised at the sight of Thranduil’s red, kiss swollen lips. He did that. He realised Thranduil was watching him stare and blushed, suddenly realising that he’d just dove in and kissed the Elvenking.

“Uh, sorry, I– ” Bard started, embarrassed all of a sudden, only to be cut off by Thranduil.

“Please don’t apologise unless you actually regret it.” Thranduil said firmly, but with a slight tinge of worry in his eye, as if he was actually thought there was any way Bard could possibly regret that kiss.

“Um, in that case, definitely not apologising.” Bard corrected himself and Thranduil’s face broke out in a smile.

“Good.” He said, rising and placing a firm but chaste kiss on Bard’s lips. “But it is late, and you need to sleep. Tell your people of my offer tomorrow and we can begin preparations.” He instructed easily as his righted his gown from where Bard’s hands had crumpled it a little.

“Goodnight Thranduil.” Bard wished, unable to stop the way his face was practically beaming at Thranduil.    

“Goodnight, Dragonslayer.” Thranduil bid with a smile as he left the house.

Bard’s announcement of Thranduil’s offer was met with vast amounts of relief and even more (if it was even possible at this point) of good will towards the Elvenking.

Not four days later, the elves were ready to leave, not leaving behind a single child, elderly or infirm person. Bard’s own children were going as well and after the biggest, tightest family bear hug he had ever given, along with kisses for them all, they had climbed onto one of the carts and started their journey, Bard waved at them until they were out of sight.

“You will visit them as soon as you can?” Thranduil asked from where he appeared beside him.

“Yes. Although, would it be alright if they weren’t the only ones I was visiting.” Bard queried nervously. They had barely shared more than a dozen kisses, but Bard could already feel his heart losing itself in the Elvenking.

“It would be much more than alright. Welcome, encourage, desperately wanted.” Came Thranduil’s quiet and honest response, face open and vulnerable in a way he only allowed himself to be with Bard, even after such a short time.

Bard wanted to kiss him.

“Can I kiss you?” Bard enquired volume so only Thranduil could hear.

“I rather hope you will.” Thranduil smiled.

Bard reached up and pulled Thranduil down to kiss him thoroughly as it would be his last chance for a while.

“Take care of my children.” Bard whispered as Thranduil rested their forehead’s together after the kiss.

“I shall.” Thranduil promised, and with one last firm kiss that felt like an assurance that it would not be their last, he mounted his horse and rode away. But not before sending Bard one final look.

When Thranduil had completely disappeared Bard noticed that the entire remaining population of Dale was staring at him in surprise.

Bard shrugged and started calling out instructions. He’d slain a dragon for them, they could get over him kissing and elf, male or otherwise.

\-------------------

It was deep winter by the time Bard was able to visit his children and Thranduil in the Woodland Realm. There was a thick blanket of snow on the ground that he was wading through as Tauriel grinned at him as she and the other elves walked atop it, not sinking into it at all.

“King Thranduil is about three hundred metres that way.” Tauriel said, gesturing into the woods. “It’s quiet safe.” She reassured as Bard started to make his way without her help.

The sight that greeted him was one that made his heart clench and his steps falter.

His children were running around in the snow, safely decked out in what looked like personally tailored, elven styled warm clothes, as they charged around shrieking and smiling as they flung snowballs at each other.

Gone were the hardened children that had seen so much war and death, and before him were his children, happy and free in a way they had never been able to be in the poverty of Laketown.

But the thing that really made Bard’s heart feel like it was in his throat had long platinum hair that was tied back in a braid that looked suspiciously like Tilda had done it, wearing plain elven clothes as if he was just another woodland elf, darting around in the snow with his children, was Thranduil.

“I got you I got you!” Tilda shrieked in delight as a snowball whacked against his shoulder, before she run up to him and jumped up into his arms.

“So you did, _pen-neth_ _,_ but now. I’m going to have to get you!” Thranduil exclaimed dramatically before tickling his daughter who was squirming and laughing in his strong arms.

“Sigird, I think Tilda needs rescuing!” Came Bain’s happy shout and not moments later two more snowballs smacked Thranduil and his children bundled him to the floor.

“Truce! Truce!” Thranduil cried, face beaming as Bard’s children rolled him in the snow.

“Why should we accept your cries for a truce?” Sigrid demanded grinning.

“Because, I think we have a visitor.” Thranduil smiled, gesturing with his eyes over to Bard. Their eyes locked and Bard tried to convey through his eyes everything he was feeling.

“Da!” Came three overexcited, shouts as they charged towards him and knocked him back into the snow.

“Hi munchkins.” Bard smiled as they all buried themselves in him, holding on tight. “Have you been having fun then?” he asked, knowing full well what the answer was.

All three of his children started recounting all the adventures Thranduil had taken them on and all the things they’d learnt and that one time they’d played hide and seek and no one had been able to find Tilda and Thranduil had practically ripped the halls apart trying to find her before finally discovering her in a barrel and holding her so tight Tilda could barely breathe.

“You really need to get better at checking those barrels.” Bard smirked to Thranduil who was leaning against a nearby tree. He glared at Bard’s comment but there was no heat there, only fondness.

The next three days he spent with his children and Thranduil were probably the happiest of his life. Thranduil held his hand and carried Tilda on his back as they walked out to show Bard their favourite picnic spot.

They all – including Bain – pinned Bard down and attacked his hair with flowers and braids before doing the same to Thranduil’s.

He spent long happy days with his whole family of which Thranduil already felt like an integral part, and deep tried nights with the elf in his arms.

He didn’t know how he had ever survived without him.

Bard managed one more visit before the winter was over, things in Dale were progressing and there was just too much work for him to get done for him to leave on good conscious.

Although when he did visit a second time, he stayed for an entire week. During which Thranduil tried to teach him how to ride his elk, Tilda showed off her elvish in front of him (by showed off Bard of course meant giggle with Thranduil in it, no doubt teasing Bard).

Sigrid showed him the dresses she had been making, they were stunning and Bain presented to him a brand new bow that he had made from scratch with the help of an elf (Bard suspected that elf was Thranduil trying not to encroach on Bain’s gift).

And when he fell into bed with Thranduil they finally found they had the energy and time to do more than kiss.

The people who had stayed with the elves returned to Dale in the spring, many of the elves coming with them. Bard was shocked to see many of the elves asking to stay in Dale, small orphaned hands clasped in their own, Bard could only nod smiling to each of them. But then, with Thranduil’s reaction to his own children, maybe it wasn’t that surprising.

The elves that chose to stay were something like dual citizens of Dale and Mirkwood, spreading out over the city with the orphans they had found they couldn’t bear the thought of leaving alone in Dale.

The ill were no longer ill, healed back to health by the elves and the elderly were in better shape than they had probably been in decades.

The children had been taught reading and writing and the arts of healing and music and dressmaking and a lot of them had begun to pick up elvish as well. Bard didn’t think he had ever seen the people of Laketown, now Dale, so happy.

Elves visiting became a regular occurrence, checking in on those they had gotten close to over the winter and seeing the elves that had moved to Dale.

Thranduil visited every week. Until eventually it felt more like he was visiting his own kingdom.

“I’m delegating, Bard, that’s all.”

“I’m glad.”

And when he did have to go to Mirkwood, their whole family normally went too.

“It’s like having to houses!” Tilda had exclaimed happily as she sat on Thranduil’s shoulders as they walked through the woods, heading to Mirkwood.

Bard and Thranduil shared a smile, knowing that wherever they were, so long as they were all together, it would be home.


	24. Cupcake shop au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> "Thranduil has a cute shop with cupcakes while Bard is an tattoo artist in the studio next to the cupcake shop. Bard the Tattoer comes to buy a cupcake every day and after fair amount of blushing, incoherent talk and cupcakes he takes Thranduil out on a date. A few years after their marriage, he admits that he doesn’t even like cupcakes."
> 
> Rated: G

 

Every day Bard went to the little shop next door to buy a cupcake. He doesn’t even like cupcakes although his daughter assured him they’re the best cupcakes she’s ever tasted.

What Bard does like, is the man who runs the little shop.

Thranduil, the cupcake shop owner, was beyond beautiful. The first time Bard had seen him he’d done the biggest double take of his life. He’d thought it was impossible for people to _actually_ look like that in real life. But there he was.

Bard’s feet had carried him into the shop before his brain had had a chance to remind him that he doesn’t actually like cupcakes. And he’d just kind of stood there dumbly staring at the impossibly beautiful man.

“Can I help you?” And oh god his voice was like liquid gold, Bard had managed somehow to snap his eyes back to attention just in time to see the man blush. The soft red in his cheeks complimented his pale skin perfectly.

“Uh, yeah. Can I have, uh, a cupcake?” He had strung together the sentence, struggling to think of anything else to say (because he was way to chicken to ask someone that beautiful out).

“Of course. What kind would you like?”

“Um, whatever one you recommend?” Bard answered, knowing absolutely nothing about cupcakes except for the fact that he didn’t like them.

“Well, I just made these ones not fifteen minutes ago. I think they’re good.” The man explained, moving gracefully around the counter to pick up a little one with pink icing.

“Yeah, okay.” Bard said, eyes barely ever leaving the man as he moved around.

His silver blond hair was soft and straight and long and Bard just wanted to bury his hands in it. His cheekbones were high and his jaw was strong. There wasn’t a single blemish on his face, just smooth porcelain skin contrasted perfectly by dark eyebrows, and ice blue eyes that sparkled like there were stars trapped in them.

He was tall and slender, but clearly lithely muscled and had broad shoulders, his legs seemed to go on forever. He moved with more natural grace than Bard would ever be able to manage no matter how hard he tried.

And god his _hands_. Long and slender and smooth unlike Bard’s large, thicker, more calloused ones. He wanted to see how it would look for him to hold the delicate pale ones in his own.

Bard had stood there staring like a moron but unable to stop as Thranduil had blushed and boxed up his cupcake, passing it over the counter. Bard dug out some money from his pocket and took the pretty box.

“Thanks.” Bard had said as he headed to the door. “Uh, I’m Bard, by the way. I work in the tattoo parlour next door.”

It may have been wishful thinking, but the other man seemed glad to hear this, like his chances of Bard coming back had just increased.

There was no way in hell Bard wasn’t coming back, even if he had lived two hundred miles away he would’ve come back.

“Thranduil.” The man, Thranduil, smiled shyly back at him.

And that was the story of how Bard ended up going into the little cupcake shop next door every single morning to buy a cupcake – that he didn’t even eat – just so that he could have five minutes with Thranduil.

In between blushing and incoherent sentences Bard learnt quite a lot about the other man from their shy conversations. Really it was ridiculous considering they were both grown men. Bard had three kids for goodness sake.

But he couldn’t help it, something about Thranduil turned him into a thirteen year old with their first crush.

Regardless, he had discovered that he preferred strawberry or vanilla over chocolate, and one of his favourite things was just spending time reading in the woods, he had a son about Sigrid’s age, he drove and electric car that was a bit of a problem child, he was a vegetarian and he had much better fashion sense than Bard (but always seemed to approve of the way Bard looked if his roaming eyes were anything to go by).

Bard always loved the things Thranduil wore, but his favourite was when on colder days he wore long and sweeping thick cardigans, especially if his long hair was piled up on his head in a messy – yet completely perfect and deliberate – bun. He just looked so soft.

Bard had also seen him deal with horrible customers, and just as Bard was about to step in, Thranduil had dealt with it firmly and with no room for argument. He was no damsel in distress, no matter how much he might blush around Bard.

One day, Bard had been late into work and hadn’t had time to pick up him morning cupcake, having to get started on his first customer, a guy named Kili who wanted his ninth tattoo, on his shoulder this time.

He was still working on his first customer when the bell to the front door answered and Tauriel knocked and poked her head in the door to his little studio looking smug.

“Someone is asking for you.” She said grinning.

“I’m a little busy.” Bard replied, not looking up from what he was doing.

“I think you want to see.”

“Do you mind?” Bard asked Kili.

“Nah.”

“Thanks.” Bard took off his gloves and stood up leaving the room.

In the dark waiting room Thranduil was stood like a star in the night sky and Bard couldn’t help the smile that broke out across his face.

“You didn’t come for you cupcake. I, um, figured you were late and might want it anyway?” Thranduil stated a little timidly, cupcake box in his hands.

“What’s on the menu today?” Bard asked with a smile, taking the offered box and digging in his pocket for his daily cupcake money.

“Red velvet. They’re my favourite. No, it’s fine, it was a gift.” Thranduil smiled that shy smile he always gave Bard before wishing him a good day and leaving the shop.

“Oh my god I don’t know if I find it pathetic or want to vomit rainbows on your behalf. Probably some strange mixture of both.” Tauriel laughed from the desk. “Have you at least kissed him yet?”

“No.” Bard admitted shaking his head.

“Okay, no, it’s definitely pathetic.”

“And for that comment, you don’t get the cupcake today.” Bard countered, smirking as he went back into his studio room.

“That from your girl?” Asked Kili.

“Guy, and he’s not really mine.” Bard blushed, sitting back down and slipping on some clean gloved.

“He’s bringing you cupcakes in the morning, he’s yours and he’s definitely a keeper. Don’t be a dick by keeping him waiting.”

“He’s way out of my league.” Bard muttered at he continued with the tattoo.

“Cupcakes. He’s brining you cupcakes so I somehow doubt he agrees.”

“It was just because I buy one every morning and was too late to today.” Bard mumbled.

“They must be good cupcakes.”

“I don’t actually like cupcakes.” Bard admitted, predicting Kili’s laugh and moving the needle.

“Oh wow, no, _wow_. You are so gone.”

“Shut up, it’s not like you’ve asked out Tauriel yet.” Bard threw back.

“True, but I don’t buy cupcakes I don’t even like from her every single morning just for an excuse to talk to her.”

“Whatever.” Bard grumbled.

“Seriously, Bard, aside from wanting to mock you mercilessly, you really should ask him on a date.”

“Yeah.” Bard conceded, he really had wanted nothing more than to date Thranduil since the moment he’d met him, it was just that Thranduil was all beautiful and perfect and he was just Bard.

“I’m going come back next week and if I find that you haven’t stopped being such a chicken then I will tell him myself that you don’t even like cupcakes.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet.” Kili challenged, grinning.

He was going to ask Thranduil out anyway, he’d wanted to for long enough and he was clearly interested. But Kili’s threat certainly helped speed up his asking.

Which is how, the very next morning, he found himself standing in the cupcake shop, palms sweaty as Thranduil boxed up his cupcake with a soft smile on his face.

“Thanks.” Bard said as he was given the box. “Uh, Thranduil?”

“Yes?” Thranduil answered, nervousness and hope dancing across his features.

“Uh, would you be opposed to maybe going on a date later today?” Bard rushed out before holding his breath waiting for Thranduil to answer.

“I thought you’d never ask.” Thranduil beamed back and Bard practically sagged in relief.

“You could’ve asked me you know.” Bard grumbled but he couldn’t stop his smile.

“I wanted to, but I got nervous every time you were here” Thranduil admitted shyly.

“Why on earth would you be nervous?” Bard asked, he’s obviously been staring since day one.

“Because you’re very attractive.” Thranduil smiled coy and blushing.

“Yeah well, I think you’re the most beautiful person in the world so it was far more intimidating for me.”  

Thranduil opened his mouth, clearly about to protest, so Bard hopped up and leant over the counter, pressing a firm kiss to Thranduil’s lips, Thranduil kissing him right back when he realised what was happening. Bard reluctantly pulled back leaving Thranduil looking delightfully flustered and a little petulant that the kiss had finished.

“I’ll pick you up after work.” Bard stated with a wink before leaving the shop with newfound confidence and a smile that didn’t leave his face all day.

It was a smile that was only beaten by the one he wore on their wedding day one year later.

\---------------

On their two year anniversary, Thranduil was taking Bard out for a picnic in his favourite little bit of the woods, just as beautiful and mesmerising to Bard as the first day he had met him.

For desert Thranduil pulled out a little box.

“It’s the same kind I gave you the first time you came into the shop.” Thranduil explained with a smile.

Bard’s face broke into a grin until he was laughing and kissing a confused Thranduil.

“What?” Thranduil enquired, confused.

“I have a confession to make.” Bard started, biting his lip, Thranduil raised an eyebrow. “I don’t actually like cupcakes, never have.”

“You bought cupcakes from me every single morning and you didn’t even like them?” Thranduil asked incredulously, before the meaning seemed to sink in and he smirked at Bard.

“Well, you see, I had this massive crush on the guy selling them.” Bard murmured, leaning into Thranduil’s space.

“Oh yeah?” Thranduil responded coyly.

“Yeah. Still do, you should see him. Most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, I’d have bought a hundred cupcakes every day if it meant I got to talk to him for a bit. I was so gone.” Bard spoke into Thranduil’s neck, pressing soft kisses there as he did.

“That is interesting, because I know a similar story, of a guy whose favourite part of the day was when the ridiculously attractive tattoo artist from next door came in for his daily cupcake. He’d have given him the cupcakes for free if it meant he’s come back the next day.” Thranduil replied, voice low and hand threading itself into Bard’s hair.

“I was your favourite part of the day?” Bard asked smiling at Thranduil like a moron, it was probably his normal face when looking at Thranduil, but it was okay because Thranduil was smiling at him in much the same way.

“You still are.” Thranduil replied, kissing Bard’s nose.

And he always was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go check out [hannibalsketches' brilliant artwork!](http://hannibalsketches.tumblr.com/post/108700900242/well-since-i-dont-have-much-time-to-make-any-of)


	25. Bard proposes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard realises he wants to marry the Elvenking
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Da?” Came Tilda’s curious voice from where she was sat beside him.

“Yes darlin’?” Bard answered, smiling at his youngest daughter as he took a swig of his drink.

“Are you going to marry ada?” She asked casually, as if that something you casually asked.

Bard choked on his drink, spluttering and flailing in a way that was not at all kingly while Tilda watched him, oblivious to that fact that her question had been the cause.

"Oh I don't know about that, sweetheart." Bard replied.

"But don't people who love each other get married?"

“Well, yeah.”

“And don’t you love ada?”

“Of course I do.” Bard replied, it was by far the easiest question he had had to answer yet. Or indeed ever.

“You should marry him then.” Tilda stated simply before bouncing off out the room like they hadn’t just had this conversation.

The thing is, he’d never really thought about it, marrying Thranduil.

But now he was thinking about it.

And he realised there was absolutely nothing he wanted more than to marry the Elvenking.

He had already been planning on spending the rest of his life with, but now he found himself wanting to be able to call him his husband.

So the next day he woke up determined to propose to Thranduil.

However, Bard knew elves did get married (or their version of it) but he didn’t exactly know how you proposed to the Elvenking, even if you had been happily together for almost three years now. Was it even allowed? Could you just propose to the king like that?

Knowing the elves there were a million and one traditions and hoops you had to jump through first.  

He’d ask Tauriel, she’d probably know and she wouldn’t tattle on him to Thranduil immediately, she had more balls than the rest of the elves when it came to the king.

Thing is, he didn’t want to outright ask her how to propose to Thranduil, or if he even could, because he wanted Thranduil to be the absolute first person to know so there was no way he could be tipped off first.

But Tauriel was way too perceptive for him to get away with that (and it was _really_ difficult to ask about marriage customs without making it obvious you wanted to propose to someone).

So scraped that plan after about two questions and a raised sculpted brow from Tauriel.

Instead he was now combing through the Mirkwood library and had been for about a week. It wasn’t even as simple as finding the section on marriage customs because Bard was having to translate literally everything including the titles and his elvish was still pretty poor.

The only things he really knew how to say were a hundred versions of ‘I love you’ and some other endearments that he would say to Thranduil. (He also now recognised some of the things Thranduil would shout during sex, and they were decidedly _not_ suitable for polite conversation).

As it pressed into week two of absolutely no luck in the library, Bard was starting to get a little frustrated. Especially since the moment he had realised he wanted to marry Thranduil he hadn’t wanted to wait one more second, let alone two weeks pouring over books he couldn’t really read. He already had the ring he had made himself last week in his pocket, and he was wasting time reading books?

Fuck that.

Bard got up and left the library, marching through the halls to where he knew Thranduil was in the vast dining room.

“ _Meleth nín_ , where on earth have you been these past couple of weeks, I feel as though I only ever see you at night.” Thranduil greeted as he marched into the dining room, a man on a mission.

“Yes, but you do get to see an awful lot of me at night.” Bard cheeked, getting a mischievous look from Thranduil – probably remembering their shenanigans the night before.

The Elvenking was _seriously_ flexible.

“Really though, whatever have you been doing? I miss spending the daytime with you.”

“I was trying to find out if there were any special customs or traditions I had to follow in order to be able to propose to you, but then it was taking to long so I dumped the books and came straight here.”

“Why would you be– _oh_.” Thranduil cut himself off with realisation as Bard dropped himself down onto one knee (traditional for the race of men at least) and presented Thranduil with the ring he had made.

It was nothing special unless you knew. Bard had metled it down and forged it from the arrow Thranduil had fired, saving his life almost two years ago now. Thranduil had pulled it from the dead ungoliant, passed him the arrow and said something in elvish that Bard had later managed to translate and discovered it to mean ‘Be careful with my heart, beloved.”.

He had carefully carved the elvish into the ring.

“Thranduil, will you do me the honour, of becoming my husband?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Thranduil had responded. “Of course I will, although it will be me who is the honoured one.”

When Bard slipped the ring onto his slender finger he pulled Thranduil into a fierce kiss, which was difficult as they were both smiling so much.

Bard wouldn’t change a damn thing.

 


	26. Elves can die from a broken heart but will Thranduil?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I’ve seen a lot of stuff about elves dying of broken hearts on tumbles, but I’ve had mixed feelings about it seen as Thranduil didn’t die after his wife died. HOWEVER, I then started really thinking about it and wondered if it could be done convincingly.
> 
> So, can I convince you?
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

A grey hair on Bard head, one that hadn’t been there when they met. Such a small thing, insignificant really.

Except that it wasn’t.

It was mortality.

It hurt Thranduil to think about.

But he couldn’t prevent the cutting thoughts from finding him every day. Bard was mortal, heading down an unstoppable path to death.

No matter how hard he tried to prolong Bards life, there was no solution, he was just prolonging the inevitable, prolonging both their pain. And what was one year to Thranduil’s eternity anyway?

It was nothing.

It was everything.

Thranduil felt like he was just waiting. Waiting to have another loved one stolen away from him.

He would not compare his love for his wife with his love for Bard. They were too different. No one ran deeper than the other. No one was more important or more real or more true.

They were as different as the deaths that stole them.

His wife had been brutally snatched. Sudden, unexpected, devastating. No build up or inevitability or waiting. Just one day, gone.

You do not break a diamond by smashing it. You wear it down.

And this, _this_ was a slow, malevolent torture. To watch Bard taken piece by piece. Chipped away. Eroded by the dull thud of time.

He couldn’t watch.

He couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t waste time even as Bard wasted away before him.

Every new grey hair, every line on his skin sunk a knife deeper into his heart.

Every slower step, every stumble twisted it further.

Every weakening, sense every weakening muscle weakened Thranduil.

Every harder breath, every longer rest tore through him.

And with every faded memory, he faded too.

A slow bereavement. Bard did not get a life, he got a long death.

A long road to a final destination.

Only the road wasn’t long at all.

And the end of it was racing towards them, no matter how desperately Thranduil tried to drag him back. Bard kept on walking.

End of the road.

Thranduil had endured. Endured for his son.

His son had left. Grown. Gone.

No the small boy his wife had left him with.

The man he had raised. Strong.

What kept him here now? What tethered him to this place? What stopped his heart from falling and shattering as it had wanted to do all those centuries ago.

Not this time.

It was surprising and wholly unsurprising to Thranduil when he realised what was happening, lying there next to Bard listening to the death rattle of his final breaths, when he realised that he too was dying.

Dying with Bard. That his heart simply couldn’t take it, it had been dying with Bard the whole way.

It is the journey, they say, not the destination, that matters.

His heart had decided to spare him the pain of living on without him.

But his heart was not his brain, his heart did not realise that it did not matter.

Live, die.

It didn’t matter either way.

The afterlife of men and the afterlife of elves was not shared.

There was no escape from this pain, even in death.

No matter how his own heart might try to protect him.

Thranduil would carry his sorrow with him beyond the grave and into forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fyi in all my other fics I chose to flat-out ignore Tolkien canon about afterlives, because, just nope.
> 
> Anyway, this has been me, trying to see if I can convince myself that thrandy might die of a broken heart, even though I categorically refuse to ignore canonical wives and their importance, or downplay bard or thrandy’s feelings for them one bit, cause they’re hella important.


	27. The incident with the unsubtly inappropriate game of pool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> modern au. Bard is a bartender. When there’s not a lot of people in the pub he plays pool to kill time and he’s good at it. Really good - and it’s a well known fact. And then one day this tall beautiful man (with a scar on his face please) walks in with a couple of friends. They play pool and he wins every time. One of the pub’s frequent clients suggests that he and Bard should play against eachother. Bard is shy/reluctant but Thrandy likes the idea and they start playing. Enter the “oh no he’s hot” phase. I can’t decide who should win, but I know they leave the pub together.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard enjoyed his job at the local pub. It was friendly, he knew most of the patrons and they knew him, and it was a family friendly place so they rarely had trouble with people getting completely off their face.

But the best part was definitely that the Master was never around, leaving Bard free to run the pub as he saw fit (which is better than anything the Master had managed before him, so he grudgingly left Bard alone).

There were two other bar tenders, a tall red-head named Tauriel, and a stocky blonde guy called Fili – whose brother always managed to be here when Tauriel was serving. Bard reckons he stole the rota off his brother. There’s a betting pool on when Kili – the brother – will actually pluck up the courage and ask her out.

Bard’s in for three week and four days from now. He fancies his chances.

A lot of the time, they were not very busy, leaving them free to venture out from behind the bar – as long as they kept an eye on it.

Whenever he was free to abandon his post behind the bar, Bard liked to descend on the pool table, playing friendly games with the patrons. Pool was one of those things that had always just clicked for Bard, and it was a well-known fact among the regulars that he was very good at it.

There was a running joke that if Bard ever lost he would give the winner a free drink.

He had yet to give out a free drink.

It was fairly busy at the moment, it being a Friday night, people coming in to unwind from their week at work. The place was bursting with their regulars as it always was at this time, and there were a few unfamiliar faces as well.

So Bard was working the bar with Tauriel, keeping an eye on the busy room as they worked around each other easily.

But no matter how many people were in the pub, _that_ face was never going to fail to turn his head.

He was just beautiful.

Tall, he had long legs that seemed to go on forever, a slender frame but surprisingly broad shoulders. He carried himself with an air of something regal about him, his every movement graceful and deliberate.

His had high, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw line that Bard though you could probably cut yourself on. His hair was long, straight and an impossible silvery blonde, falling around and past his shoulders without a strand out of place, despite the weather outside. His thick, dark eyebrows contrasted his alabaster skin and platinum hair perfectly.

There was a cruel, painful looking scar lining the left side of his face and clouding one of his icy blue eyes over with white, but he walked and held himself like he didn’t even know it was there. Like he was challenging you to mistake him as weak.

He was both sharp and soft, cold and warm, free and measured.

He was beautiful.

And he was wiping the floor with everyone who played him at the pool table.

“You know, instead of staring like an idiot, you could go and talk to him. Use pool to break the ice.” Tauriel commented casually as Bard watched the man beat his fourth opponent, smiling wickedly as he did.

“I can’t we’re too busy.” Bard hedged, mixing a drink.

“Maybe we were half an hour ago when he walked in and your jaw hit the floor – subtle by the way – but now I can handle it and you know it.” Tauriel pointed out, smiling as she passed over another drink.  

Bard mumbled an excuse before getting some more drinks as Tauriel rolled her eyes.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, because he definitely did, but he had things he needed to do.

(He was behaving like a scared twelve year old with their first crush even though he would never admit it).

The next time his eyes found their way over to the man (so after not very long at all) he was surprised and a little worried to find Percy chatting to him and pointing in Bard’s general direction. And when he saw Tauriel’s conspiratorial smirk, he knew he was in trouble.

“Bard!” Percy called across the pub, and much of the room quietened down to listen.

The man was actually blushing next to Percy, looking almost shy as Percy called out. It was not an expression Bard had seen him wear all evening. What on earth was he shy about?

“Yeah.” Bard called back only slightly hesitantly.

“I think you should challenge Thranduil here to a game, because I think we may have finally found someone who can beat you.”

Thranduil, that was a nice name, odd and yet it suited him perfectly.

“You willing to put money on that?” Bard asked jovially with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

“Is that a yes?” Percy persisted.

“I am supposed to be running a pub you know.” Bard evaded, pouring another drink.

“I’ve got it covered!” Tauriel chimed in with a sugary sweet smile.

“Yeah, come on Bard!”

Within about ten seconds the entire pub had joined in with the regulars in chanting his name and Bard had to admit defeat.

“Alright, alright.” Bard gave in, bringing his hands up in surrender and chucking his tea towel at Tauriel (he grinned when it caught her in the face) as he headed to the pool table to the cheers of the entire pub.     

“So, colours or stripes?” Bard asked with a grin as he picked up his cue.

“Stripes.” Thranduil responded.

Percy flipped a coin and Bard ended up breaking. He put away three balls easily on his first shot, smirking at Thranduil as he straightened up and getting a raised eyebrow in return.

Even if Thranduil was blushing coyly and unable to keep eye contact with Bard for more than a few seconds before smiling and looking away shyly, he was still damn good at pool. Despite having come over bashful now playing Bard (something which Bard was very smug about) he was not letting it effect his play.

It was a close game, but Bard kept getting distracted by _those_ damn hands. Long, slender and smooth, he elegantly wrapped them around the cue as he waited his turn and Bard’s mind couldn’t help but supply a something else he’d like them wrapped around.

Bard blushed and ripped his gaze away when he realised he was staring (Percy defiantly snorted) and he noticed Thranduil biting his lip – which was sending him a parade of other images involving his mouth – as his mouth quirked up into a smile.

Bard had a feeling the other man may be playing dirty.

Well, two could play at that game.

Next time he moved past Thranduil he made sure to brush past him a way that wasn’t strictly necessary.

So Thranduil bent over for his next shot right in front of Bard in a way that wasn’t exactly conducive to his shot (that he managed to make flawlessly anyway), forcing Bard to swallow thickly and think of the Master naked so he didn’t end up with a situation in his trousers.

Despite his teasing, Thranduil had a near constant blush rising on his cheeks, like he as shy or embarrassed by his flirting, but enjoying himself too much to stop. Bard wanted to find out exactly how far that flush went down his pale skin.

“I find, that if you grip it a little firmer it’s much more fun.” Bard had leant over and practically whispered into Thranduil’s ear, commenting of course on his light hold of the cue and absolutely nothing else.

Bard checked it down as a victory for himself when it made Thranduil falter and fluff the shot completely.

Thranduil had blushed a deeper red and walked round the table, Bard suspected that he was deliberately putting himself in the eye line of Bard’s next shot.

And indeed, for payback Thranduil naturally dipped a finger into his read wine and sucked it off. Bard isn’t going to talk about what happened to that shot, but it may have left the table.

In retaliation Bard may have made a comment as Thranduil leant over to take his next shot about spreading his legs a little more to get a better angle. So Thranduil dragged his hand down the cue with a firmer grip than usual and looked at Bard temptingly from under his eyelashes.

Despite their best efforts (or perhaps because they were both playing the same game) they were still neck and neck until finally only the eight-ball was left on the table, and it was Bard’s shot.

And he would’ve made it too, if Thranduil hadn’t bent over to pick up the wallet he ‘innocently’ dropped right as Bard made his shot.

Thranduil was left with an easy shot and sunk the eight-ball – just – as Bard ghosted a hand across his back.

“Very impressive, straight down into the pocket.” Bard noted with a teasing smile as Thranduil straightened up from his shot.

“Well, I am very good at going down on things.” Slipped from Thranduil’s lips before he smacked a hand over his mouth and turned a brilliant shade of red, clearly not believing he’d actually just said that.

The entire pub chose that moment to cease being quiet and erupt into loud laughter and if it was possible, Thranduil went an even deeper shade of red. They had both kind of forgotten there was anyone else in the room. Subtle was probably not what they had just been.

Before long everyone turned and headed back to their own tabled and conversations, leaving Bard and a shy, still blushing Thranduil next to the pool table.

“So, can I buy you a drink?” Bard asked with a big smile

“Oh, yes, your policy of giving anyone who beats you a free drink.”

“Well no, I mean yeah that is a thing, but I was meaning more along the lines of maybe going somewhere else and me buying you a drink and maybe kissing you at the end of the night.” Bard clarified, still smiling at the coy man in front of him.

“Oh.” Thranduil blushed. “Yeah, that’s good too. Much better in fact.”

“Excellent.” Bard winked. Thranduil stayed until closing, sat at the bar talking to Bard, slowly coming out of the shy shell he only seemed to have with Bard.

They had that drink at a bar open much later than Bard’s pub just down the road.

And when the end of the night came, he did kiss Thranduil.

As he would most nights for the rest of his life.

 


	28. Tilda has a nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Soooo, I was just thinking what if Thranduil was taking care of the kids and Tilda had a nightmare and started crying for her ada? Or if one of the older kids was having a nightmare about the battle and just needed to cuddle? I just love Thranduil with the kids!
> 
> Rated: G

 

Thranduil’s ears, as all elves, were most sensitive than those of men. They could pick up sounds far quieter and much further away than men could.

Which is why on the nights when Tilda was having a nightmare, Thranduil heard before Bard, just as intune to her as if she was his own child.

Well, in all the ways that mattered, she was.

She has far too many nightmares. If Thranduil had anything to say about it she wouldn’t have a single one. There wouldn’t be any fires or dragons or battles and orcs in her past. He wished he would wipe away the memories for her.

He slid out of bed, carefully not waking Bard – which was difficult given the way they were wrapped around each other – and walked silently out and into Tilda’s bedroom the moment he heard her distressed cries.

He eased the door shut behind himself and knelt down next to her bed, soothing a hand over her mousy hair and gently rousing her from sleep.

“Shhh, _pen-neth_ , wake up.” Thranduil murmured as little tears fell from Tilda’s eyes and her whimpers grew louder, body starting to shake.

“Ada?” Tilda cried out worried, still completely asleep and Thranduil’s heart broke a little.

He scooped her up into his arms and settled down on her small bed, holding her tight against his chest and successfully waking her up in the process.

“Ada?” She practically sobbed, balling her little fists into Thranduil’s night gown tightly.

“Yes, _pen-neth_ , I am here.”

“I was worried, I thought–” Tilda sobbed, working herself up again.

“Shhh, little one, I’m here, I’m okay. We’re all okay.” Thranduil comforted, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he held her almost as tightly as she was gripping onto him.

Her tears were seeping through his night clothes. It was enough to make him want to kill every orc and slay every beast that dared to come within a hundred mile radius of her.

As he rocked her gently in his arms, calming her down and stopping her little shakes as she buried her head in his chest, Bard appeared in the doorway, sleepy and concerned.

“Is she okay?” He mouthed to Thranduil who shook his head. “Did you have a bad dream darlin’?” He asked gently, crouching next to the bed and running his hand through her hair.

Tilda nodded, still sniffling, against Thranduil’s chest.

“There was a fire and orcs and they had ada and- and- ” She started crying harder again, trembling against Thranduil and holding onto him so tight her small knuckles were turning white.

Thranduil kissed her forehead and scooted to the side of Tilda’s small bed, making enough room for Bard to squeeze on.

“Did I ever tell you the story of how ada got seasick when we went across the lake?” Bard asked and Tilda shook her head turning it to face Bard, but still plastered across Thranduil’s chest.

“Well it’s a very good story. Now you see your ada is very silly because he didn’t even tell me that he get’s all icky and seasick on boats – even if we were only going across the lake – because he wanted to see my favourite spot, you know, the one we go to for picnics at in the summer. But you see, ada was– ”

Thranduil tuned out the words to Bard’s story, knowing it well as he remembered it fondly (despite the sickness) listening instead to the sound of his love’s voice and the feeling of Tilda relaxing in his arms.

They fell back to sleep, their little girl bundled between them, now snoring softly.


	29. Ikea furniture is a problem child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Imagine your OTP trying to build IKEA furniture
> 
> Rated: T

 

Flat-pack furniture, is a thing of the devil.

“Oh will you please just throw the instructions away already! They’re clearly wrong.” Thranduil exclaimed as Bard struggled with connecting two pieces that clearly didn’t go together.

The whole of their new bedroom was littered with half built pieces of ikea flat-pack furniture; the bed, bedside tables, wardrobe, chest of draws and desk had all been partially assembled until Bard inevitably gave up and moved onto the next item.

“We can’t throw them away! Then we’d have absolutely no idea what we were doing.” Bard griped back, desperately trying to understand what the hell the unhelpful diagram meant.

“Opposed to now, when you’re so on top of it.” Thranduil replied sarcastically from where he was lounging in the armchair.

“Well, princess, if you’re so convinced you can do better, why don’t you come over here and try, instead of sitting there in that damn chair.” Bard griped, trying to balance one panel of wood on his shoulder while he screwed in the next.

“I wanted to hire people to do it for us! But no, you were _so_ convinced you could do it yourself.” Thranduil complained from his seat.

“I can do it myself!” Bard protested just as he failed to bolt the planks together once again.

“The current situation would beg to differ.” Thranduil retorted. Bard muttered at him and snatched up one of the planks of wood again. “You let me know when you’re done asserting your manliness and I’ll call the shop and tell them to send someone.”

“I don’t need to assemble stupid flat-pack furniture to ‘assert my manliness’ to you princess.” Bard grumbled, nearly having the two panels finally locked together.

“Is that so?” Thranduil replied, his voice suddenly lower and full of mischief.

“You know damn well it is.” Bard responded with a leer at Thranduil.

“Well I guess you better come over here and prove it then.” Thranduil smirked from where he was lounging in his chair.

Bard immediately dropped what he was doing at the look Thranduil was giving and the sultry tone he was using, letting the entire half made bookshelf clatter to the floor in favour of dragging Thranduil out of the armchair they jokingly called his throne, and taking him up against the half built desk.

Turns out half-built ikea furniture was not quite sturdy enough to support their activities and by the time they were done not a single half-assembled piece of furniture was still intact.

Bard wasn’t sure what had been louder, all the wood crashing to the floor as it broke under them or Thranduil’s screams as Bard fucked him.

That led to a very awkward conversation with a police officer after a neighbour had thought they were hearing a domestic dispute.   

The next day they called someone in to do it for them, they refused to comment on how it had all ended up collapsed on the floor.

Turns out fully built flat-pack furniture struggled to hold up under them as well.

Next time they bought quality wood furniture that was prebuilt.

The headboard was already a little worse for wear.


	30. Thranduil, why does Elrond think we're married?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> "Thranduil, why does Elrond think we're married?"
> 
> Rated: G

 

They were in Rivendell on official business, Elrond had called a council of all of the rulers of Middle Earth (not that many had come) Thranduil wouldn’t even be here if Bard hadn’t all but dragged him there by his silvery locks.

Bard had just been mentioning it in passing really, when Thranduil was on a visit to Dale to make a few tweaks to their trade agreement. Really they could let other people do it as the changes were so minor and completely undisputed, but for some reason either Bard or Thranduil always ended up visiting the other to do it. Bard didn’t mind, he enjoyed the company of the Elvenking.

It had been after this discussion of trade, sharing a drink together in Bard’s home in Dale, that Bard had mentioned the council in Rivendell and suggested that they travel together.

“Oh, I’m not going to that.” Thranduil had answered dismissively, returning to sipping his wine and lounging on the throne – the throne that was technically Bard’s, it was something the elf did often, Bard didn’t mind, he had become very fond of the sight.

“I was unaware that it was optional.” Bard commented with a raised eyebrow. “The message sounded as though it was a fairly important meeting, he is calling all of the rulers of Middle Earth.”

Bard still found it strange that he counted as a ruler of Middle Earth, he had been King of Dale for over two years now, and he still couldn’t really get used to it. He was very glad that people still just called him Bard, or Bowman, and even sometimes Bargeman – but that was usually Thranduil being cheeky.

“He invites everyone in the hope at least five people might turn up.” Thranduil told Bard, voice unconcerned.  

“Well I think we should be two of those five.” Bard replied with a pointed look at the elf sprawled somehow elegantly in his throne. He would never be able to make his throne look that good.

“Honestly Bard it’s only ever Elrond, Galadriel some obscure leader of men no one has ever heard of, possibly someone from Rohan but it’s unlikely, and a wizard who will, without a doubt, arrive after the actual council. Besides, it’s not like the dwarves will be sending anyone.” Thranduil moaned almost petulantly, clearly not wanting to be dragged out to Rivendell (Bard was going to drag him out to Rivendell).

“Do you seriously want to have anything in common with the dwarves?” Bard teased and Thranduil shot him a glare, but they had long since stopped working on him. “No, we’re definitely going. I suggest we leave a week tomorrow so we have plenty of time for the journey.”

“I wish you a pleasant trip, feel free to fill me in on whatever it was Elrond wanted when you get back.” Thranduil added with a completely fake sugary sweet smile.

“You’re coming with me, your royal laziness. I suggest you pack yourself because if I get to Mirkwood in a week and find you haven’t, I’ll be packing for you and I might just forget you favourite pillow.” Bard snarked, chucking the cushion he was sitting on at Thranduil for emphasis.

It amazed Bard sometimes, how relaxed the Elvenking was around him. They were equals in their interactions, Thranduil didn’t speak down to Bard like he seemed to do to everyone else who came across him. Bard knew that their easy banter shocked many of the woodland elves, but by now they were used to it and took Bard and Thranduil in their stride.

After a few glares and a look that was practically a pout, Thranduil relented with a dramatic sigh.

They were accompanied by a very small group, only two elves and two men, and only then because they had all insisted the kings shouldn’t travel alone.

“You do realise you are talking about a dragonslayer and myself, we will be perfectly fine.” Thranduil had said, exasperated as Tauriel insisted on coming.

Bard suspected she just wanted to see Rivendell, so naturally he took her side with a grin and glare in return from Thranduil.

Thranduil, of course, whined the entire way, riding his great elk alongside Bard’s horse. Bard found himself smiling to himself the whole way, listening to Thranduil’s griping.

“When was the last time you even left your kingdom?” Bard asked with a laugh as Thranduil made a bitchy comment about the state of the road.

“I– ” Thranduil opened his mouth to speak but Bard cut in.

“And no, Dale does not count.” He laughed, especially when Thranduil then stopped speaking and furrowed his brow.

“A while ago.” He muttered.

“You are such a shut-in.” Bard laughed, a warm feeling in his stomach settling, he thought it might be because Thranduil actually came out to visit him –Dale, that is – really quite often.

“On the contrary, I visit you far too much these days.” Thranduil pointed out.

“Nah, I don’t think you come too much.” Bard smiled.

“No, neither do I.” Thranduil returned, sharing in his smile.

The warm feeling Bard got around Thranduil increasingly often didn’t leave him all day. The effect of being around a friend he reasoned.

When they reached Rivendell they were met by a tall (as they all were) brown haired elf.

“ _Mae tollen_ , _hîr nín_ _Thranduil_ ,” The elf greeted, polite but clearly a little confused. “And…?”

“ _Mae govannen_ , this is King Bard of Dale.” Thranduil introduced him before he had a chance to speak for himself, they were met with a welcoming but still confused look from the elf. “We’re here for the council Elrond called.” Thrnaduil sighed like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Bard was apparently the only person present who did think it was obvious. The elf looked shocked, but Bard felt it looked like there was something else going on over his features than just surprise that they had actually shown up.

“Really?” He asked incredulously with a surprised look at Thranduil, who was looking unimpressed, before quickly schooling his features. “Of course, my apologies, you are obviously most welcome. I will inform Lord Elrond of your arrival.”

Thranduil gave one satisfied nod before sweeping up the stone steps, leaving Bard staring around at the scenery. It really was breath-taking. Almost as beautiful as the Woodland Realm. But not nearly as beautiful as Mirkwood’s fascinating king.

And that was an interesting thought.

Bard frowned before shrugging internally, Thranduil was beautiful, he had always known it, you would have to be blind not to.

“Come along Bargeman, there will be plenty of time to gawk at the scenery later, now I think we had best change from our travelling clothes.” Came Thranduil’s amused voice from where he had stopped halfway up the steps to wait for Bard.

Bard smiled at his friend and hopped his way up the stairs, falling into step beside Thranduil, the other members of their party following behind Bard.  

“Fine, but you must promise to give me a tour later.” Bard bargained, knowing Thranduil wouldn’t mine.

“Very well, although I warn you, it has been long since I was here last. Much may have changed.” Thranduil replied easily.

“Well then, we’ll just have to go exploring instead then.”

Thranduil and Bard shared in another smile as the entered the beautiful buildings of Rivendell, leaving a still confused and _very_ surprised Lindir standing at the bottom of the white steps.

Their rooms were adjacent to each other, and Bard was glad, happy to keep a friend close in this new place. Bard quickly changed and knocked on Thranduil’s door, letting himself in before he got an answer to encourage him to hurry up so they could take their walk.

Honestly the Elvenking took far too long getting ready for anything, which was ridiculous, he would look wonderful and kingly in anything, even Bard’s own clothes.

Which was another interesting thought.

There was also an increasingly surprised Lindir stood down the hallway as he saw Bard slip into the Elvenking’s rooms.

They were greeted by Elrond just as they were setting out for their walk, and bard felt instantly rude for not finding their host sooner, but Thranduil seemed unbothered. Then again, when was the tall git ever worried about being rude? Bard thought to himself with a fond smile.

Elrond expressed his surprised that they answered his summons, although this was mainly aimed at Thranduil (honestly, such a shut-in), but Bard answered.

“Yeah. I did have to practically drag him here by his hair though.” Bard joked, Thranduil sniffed but Bard knew the little quirk of his lips for the amusement it was.

Suddenly Elrond looked slightly more shocked than he had before (well, to the extent that elves ever looked shocked). And when they left to take their walk, Elrond watched them go curiously.

They went out on their walk, Bard insisting on exploring every nook and cranny the halls and surroundings of Rivendell had to offer, and for once – after some initial whining (as was expected) –  Thranduil didn’t even bother trying to pretend that he wasn’t enjoying himself. Bard grinned at his friend whenever he caught him smiling at him, usually when he thought Bard wasn’t looking.

They dined with Elrond and some other Elves, one of whom was tall and blonde and beautiful, yet in a very different way to Thranduil, she lacked his, he wasn’t sure what, charisma maybe? He had never been able to put his finger on exactly what he found so magnetic about Thranduil.

Thranduil and Bard sat together and mainly shared in their own conversation while the musicians played beautiful songs; although nothing would beat the loud, jovial music of the Taverns for Bard. Except maybe that time Thranduil had gotten a little tipsy and started singing to Bard in elvish.

It had been a late night and Bard had been plying him with wine all evening to get him to lighten up a little, something had had him melancholy for the past few days that Bard had been in Mirkwood, and Bard found he couldn’t stand the sight of him sad, it turned his stomach and made him ache to make his friend feel better.

If anything Thranduil had looked at him with an even sadder expression as he started to sing.

_I nimwaloth i bain a phant,_   
_I laiss in end calen nadhras,_   
_Calad egennir mi i lant_   
_E geil mi dhúath thiliol_   
_Tinúviel i lilthas ias_   
_Na lind o simp dholen a brand,_   
_A vi finnil dîn glîn ennas,_   
_A vi chammad dîn míriol._   
  
_Nu laiss Beren erui padas,_   
_Ab aegais ring dad túliel,_   
_Ennas i elduin sirias_   
_Nûr a erui reniol_   
_Min laiss en-gwaloth tíriel_   
_Glinthant mellys lassui ennas_   
_Na choll a rainc dîn derthiel_   
_Sui dae finnil dîn aphadol…_

It had been a long song, Thranduil’s voice in elvish was like music in itself. He hadn’t understood the words, but he had been enchanted by Thranduil all the same – enchanted by the song, that is.  
  
The elves watched them curiously as Bard and Thranduil bickered and teased between themselves, relatively oblivious to the others around them. Bard supposed they just were not used to having a mortal man at their table.

At the council the next day Thranduil kept making bored faces at him, reminiscent of the time Gandalf had been going on and on in Thranduil’s tent before the battle. Bard tried to send him stern look back, but it was difficult when the corners of his mouth were insisting on smiling at him.

Bard was wondering if over this trip, the warm feeling in his stomach was ever going to lift. He hoped it didn’t, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it meant.

When Thranduil actually contributed to the discussion he kept referring to Bard as the quaint little Bargeman to his left with a smirk, so naturally Bard called him the dainty little forest fairy that lived next door to Dale. Thranduil glared one of his glares that Bard knew meant he was amused not angry and smirked back.

The rest of the room just stared at the in disbelief. Bard guessed it had been pretty unprofessional of them at this serious (and empty just as Thranduil had predicted) council.

But Thranduil was smiling so Bard didn’t really care.

It was after the meeting, that the comment was made.

Thranduil had retired early claiming that he was tired – which Bard knew was code for ‘Bard I am bored come drink wine with me in my room and without these tedious people so I can laugh at them’ – they both knew Bard would be following him up.

What? Thranduil’s wine was good and the conversation really had grown dull.

Well, dull compared to Thranduil anyway, which actually wasn’t saying much, at least in Bard’s opinion.

“I think I will head off as well.” Bard said, stretching his arms exaggeratedly as if that would convince them.

“Yes, probably best that you check on Thranduil, I never remembered him to tire easily, normally staying later than the rest of us.” Elrond agreed, walking with him as he went, Bard smiled, knowing that Thranduil’s banquets went on long and late, and that Mirkwood’s reputation among the elves was deserved.

Bard was surprised Elrond had realised that he was going to see Thranduil – even if it was for wine and not to check on him – but still.

“You will let me know if there is anything we can get you or your husband to make your stay more comfortable. You should have informed us of your union earlier, we would not have roomed you separately.” Elrond said and smiled kindly before walking off in a different direction, leaving a highly confused Bard gawking in the hall.

Elrond thought they were _married_.

Doesn’t he think he would’ve gotten an invite to something like that?!

Wait, no, we’re talking about Thranduil, of course he wouldn’t have invited anyone he should.

Which was irrelevant because they weren’t married. At all, in any sense.

And why did Bard suddenly feel sad about that.

Bard stumbled his way over to a stone bench in an out of the way corner where he wouldn’t be disturbed.

He was very quickly recognising the warm feeling Thranduil gave him for what it was.

What it had probably always been.

It was felt so sudden, and yet it wasn’t, Bard’s feelings had been a slow move from friendship to more, so slow that he hadn’t even noticed.

Bard groaned into his hands, scrubbing them across his face.

He was in love with his best friend.

He didn’t think he would be able to bear losing his friendship, but the truth was now too stark for him to be able to pretend like he didn’t feel, feel things that were now burning through his chest, finally freed by Bard’s acknowledgement of them.

But then, the tiniest flicker of hope sparked itself to life in Bard’s heart.

Elrond’s comment meant that it didn’t seem one-sided to him. He had recognised something in Bard even as he failed to see it himself, was it possible he had seen the same thing in Thranduil? And that was where the assumption grew from?

Bard knew Thranduil treated him differently. Differently than he treated anyone else. Bard found himself desperately wishing that this was the hallmark, not of friendship, but something more.

Hope was carrying him as his feet moved him towards the door to Thranduil’s rooms, knocking lightly on the door and slipping inside almost warily. He could barely breathe.

“Finally, I was beginning to think you had forsaken me.” Thranduil smiled from his seat, motioning Bard to a goblet to wine.

Bard could never forsake him.

“Thranduil, why does Elrond think we're married?” He asked carefully. He had been aiming to make his voice light, something that could be treated as a funny thing Elrond had said. But even to his own ears he could hear the weight in his voice.

The tell-tale lilt of hope.

There was a pause that stretched out between them before Thranduil finally spoke slowly and softly.

“Because I let you tease me and drag me to these things, and I go on walks with you, and take my dinner with you, and I smile at you in a way I haven’t smiled in centuries, and he sees it.” Thranduil sighed, voice open and honest. “Because, despite what a bad idea it may be, and however blissfully oblivious you are, I am in love with you, my friend. And you are the only one who doesn’t see it.”

“…I don’t think it’s a bad idea.” Bard replied, breath catching in his throat at the way Thranduil’s eye’s snapped to him, searching. “I cannot believe how stupid I have been, how blind to you, to my own feelings.”

“You, you mean– ” Thranduil asked tentatively, hope breaking his voice, Bard could only nod, small but sure.

Thranduil had him gathered him in a tight embrace before he could blink. The significance of it wasn’t lost on Bard, elves did not hug each other in the same way men did, Thranduil doing this meant he wanted, needed to be held.

Bard encircled the Elvenking in his arms and held him tight against his chest, burying their faces in each other’s necks. Bard felt Thranduil relax in his arms, like tension he had been carrying far too long was finally melting away.

Bard lifted Thranduil’s face, gently guiding him by his chin as he brought their lips together. The kiss was desperate from the start, as if Thranduil was trying to burrow into Bard’s very being as he gripped onto Bard’s shirt with white knuckles.

“God I’m so sorry.” Bard gasped, between deep kisses.

Thranduil reassured him with his lips, that it was okay, not to speak of it.

They both knew what he was talking about.

Bard felt he had wasted so much time already.

And time would be the most precious thing they had.

Simply because they didn’t have it.

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BONUS POINTS IF YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT SONG THRANDUIL WAS SINGING ;)
> 
> (obvs I only put in the first two verses as otherwise it would've been a really long, but Thrandy did sing it all)


	31. Bard is moping so Thranduil fixes it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Tilda gets married and moved out of the house and Bard is having empty next syndrome is a broody and mopey puppy for several weeks and spends his evenings drinking and being depressed till finally Thranduil decides “okay, i can’t watch this anymore I humored you at first but it’s not happening.” (Also he wants to get laid *ahem*) but more importantly he wants his lover to cheer up so he takes him up on his elk (he got new one) and into the forest where he has some sort of picnic/dinner set up with lanterns under the stars and food and proceeds to spoil him and eventually shagged. ;)
> 
> Rated: G

 

It had been precisely three weeks and four days since Tilda had donned her beautiful white dress – which Thranduil had designed and had had made especially – and walked down the aisle and out of Bard’s house, leaving him and empty-nest, and subsequently empty-nest syndrome.

Which translated into; it had been precisely three week and four days that Bard had been moping around his house, drinking in the evenings and behaving like a generally broody and depressed little puppy.

And Thranduil had tolerated it because he loves Bard, and he knows what it felt like to have one’s children leave home. Although he would like to point out that Tilda, Bain and Sigrid had moved down the road, Legolas had literally moved across Middle Earth. But now was not the time to point out such things.

Either way, Thranduil had decided that precisely three weeks and four days was officially the maximum time you were permitted to spend moping over your child moving down the street.

He wanted to cheer his love up, he found that he missed his easy smiles and full laughter. Also he wants to get laid. Which was obviously a secondary concern to coaxing smiles out of Bard again, but still, there were other things he’d like to coax out of his Dragonslayer as well.

So, at precisely three week and four days of wallowing Thranduil walked over to where Bard was lying tragically on the sofa (really he must’ve picked up this level of drama from Thranduil at some point).

“I am sorry but I can’t watch this anymore. I humoured you at first but it’s not happening anymore. Up.” Thranduil instructed, arms crossed across his chest.

Bard all but pouted up at him from where he was lying. Yes, he had definitely been spending too much time around Thranduil. Only as far as Thranduil was concerned, every single second wouldn’t be too much. In fact it would be ideal.

“Are you going to make me drag you, Bargeman?” Thranduil asked, brow raised.

Bard sighed and heaved himself up, making it look as though it was far more effort than it in fact was. Thranduil rolled his eyes at him and grabbed his large, work roughened hand in his own pale slender one, and pulled him out the door.

“Terrible as I am sure it is, to have a child move all the way down the street. The entire street! I know, unthinkable. The moping period is officially capped at three week and four days.” Thranduil informed him, mounting his elk and holding down a hand for Bard. “Climb on.”

Bard gave one finally broody frown and wistful look to the house before taking Thranduil’s offered hand and sitting behind him on the elk, slinging his arms around Thranduil’s waist.

Despite his reluctance, it was only a couple of minutes before Bard’s arms were squeezing Thranduil’s middle affectionately and hooking his chin over his shoulder.

“So, where’re we going?” He murmured into Thranduil’s ear.

“A little spot out in the forest.” Thranduil replied.

“Which little spot.” Bard asked, Thranduil shot him a coy look and he felt Bard’s rumble of laughter against his back. “Oh, _that_ little spot.”

Thranduil could feel Bard’s smile on his neck and when Bard nipped playfully at the lobe of his ear – knowing his ears were a particularly sensitive zone for Thranduil – his body jerked, a little spark shooting through him. Luckily his elk was intelligent enough not to skid to a halt or veer off course.

Thranduil gave Bard a glare, turning to look over his shoulder, but there was no heat in it and he got a kiss to his nose for his trouble.

It had been early in the evening when they had left, so when they reached their destination it was fully dark, just as Thranduil had planned.

They dismounted and left the elk to roam the forest – he would return as soon as Thranduil called.

He walked Bard through the trees, guiding him from behind as he had his hands placed delicately over Bard’s eyes, dropping them when they reached the clearing.

Bard gasped lightly, taking Thranduil’s hands in his own, Thranduil was only too happy to settle them around his middle and hold him against his chest.

Thranduil had done it before rousing Bard from his pit of wallowing. There were little lanterns littering the clearing, in the tree’s, the bushes, scattered around the floor, casting an amber glow over the blankets and picnic supplies Thranduil had laid out.

“ _Oh_ ,” Bard sighed, “ _Meleth nín_ , it is beautiful.” He squeezed Thranduil’s hand, knowing how it made Thranduil’s heart swell when he spoke the few phrases he knew in elvish.

“ _Melin le_.” Thranduil whispered.

“I love you too.” Bard replied smiling, turning in Thranduil’s arms and kissing him soundly.

Thranduil had missed him, missed this so much. Mostly he’d missed that smile.

He spoiled Bard all evening, with all the wines and foods he loved most from Thranduil’s realm but never let himself indulge in often, worried of putting on weight or something completely ridiculous, as if Thranduil wouldn’t love him just as much whatever way he was.

Thranduil even sang to him, while letting Bard weave his hair into a plait, two things he did, he was always complaining that Thranduil didn’t sing enough, given how lovely his voice was. Thranduil blushed at every comment in a way he never did with anyone else. Maybe because he knew that from Bard, they were genuine.

By the end of the evening Bard was back to smiling and laughing freely, Thranduil was so glad to have his Bard back.

And Thranduil got laid.

 Multiple times.

All in all, he’d say he’d been pretty successful.

 


	32. Worried Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Worried!Bard because something happened to Thranduil.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“I assure you I am fine.” Thranduil tried to calm as Bard alternated between yelling and frantically checking him over for injury.

“You were missing for hours Thran, _hours_.” Bard cried, gripping Thranduil’s gowns before pacing away again.

“Yes, but I am back now and I am fine.” Thranduil soothed, trying to catch Bard’s hand, but he was too agitated.

“No one had any idea where you were!” He shouted and Thranduil couldn’t help the way his gut twisted, not having meant to cause Bard worry.

“There was no cause for alarm.” He reasoned, even though he knew it was a poor excuse.

“No cause for alarm! Anything could have happened to you.” Bard shouted, but the waver in his voice betrayed his anger as stemming from worry, maybe even panic. Thranduil felt terrible, this was not how this was supposed to go.

“But it didn’t. I’m fine, _Meleth nín_ , I promise.” Thranduil assured, but Bard continued pacing, _gods_ he must’ve been so worried, Thranduil had not meant to worry him.

“Why were you out alone anyway! What were you doing that was so important that you couldn’t tell anyone where you were going? Not even me.” Bard yelled, and Thranduil couldn’t bear the hurt in his voice.

“I was– ” Thranduil went to explain but Bard cut him off

“You just left Thran! I woke up in the middle of the night and you were just gone! And then you weren’t anywhere to be found. Do you know how worried I was? That you’d been hurt, that you’d left me?”

“I would never leave you Bard, not ever.” Thranduil pleaded, unable to even stomach the thought of them not being together. “I had intended to be back before you awoke.”

“That doesn’t change anything. What were you even doing out in the dead of night like that? I’ve seen the things that lurk out in those woods, _gods_. What was so important you would do that!” Bard cried again, hands practically shaking and he checked Thranduil over once more.

Thranduil reached into his pocket as Bard continued ranting, drawing out a small wooden box and holding it out to Bard, who ceased his ranting and took it, his curiosity winning over.

“What is it?” He asked, studying the intricately carved designs on the box. Thranduil had done them himself.

“A custom among men I believe. I was going to surprise you at dinner this evening.” Thranduil replied softly.

Bard opened the box and gasped when he saw the simple but beautiful silver ring laying inside.

“Are you– ”

“Asking you to marry me? Yes. Do you accept?” Thranduil asked, voice betraying his nervousness.

“Of course, of course I accept.” Bard cried, flinging himself at Thranduil in an embrace and pushing them both flat on the bed with the force of it.

“You’re still an idiot for going out alone you know.” Bard muttered into his hair.

“Well then you just agreed to marry an idiot.”

“And I don’t regret it for one second.”

And he never did.


	33. Bard has a nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> post-botfa when they're already together, and one of them has a nightmare and the other just kinda comforts them and they wake up happy
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

He was surrounded by flames, they were burning him, licking at his skin and tearing through his flesh. But that didn’t matter, he couldn’t find his children. Then he could hear them yelling, but all three from different directions, what way could he possibly go?

The floor fell out from under him, he landed in the woodland realm, that was burning too. Flames everywhere and Thranduil was trapped in them, melting away. Screaming, blaming Bard.

He ran into the fire to save him, but the world shifted again and he was in the battle. He screamed, pushing his way through the wall of orcs to get to his family, his children and his love. But he was too late.

He was always too late.

“ _Meleth nín!_ ”He heard call him although the voice was disembodied, as if it came from the sky. Perhaps Thranduil was still alive, he had to get to him, had to, had to.

“ _Meleth nín!_ Wake up please, it is just a dream.”

Bard jolted awake. Drenched in sweat, throat burning from screaming, tears running down his face, trembling. He would’ve been shaking violently if it wasn’t for Thranduil’s strong arms around him, holding his fast against his chest.

“It is okay, we are all okay. I am here, Sigrid, Bain and Tilda are asleep in their rooms, safe and sound.” Thranduil soothed quietly

“I couldn’t save yo–” Bard gasped, voice scratching.

“Shh, _Meleth nín_ , you did save us, you save us all. You slayed the dragon, you protected Dale, you kept everyone safe, you did it. You kept us all safe.” Thranduil murmured into Bard’s sweaty hair, rocking him gently in his arms and holding him tight.

Thranduil kept repeating those things, kept hold of Bard and eventually his body stopped shaking and breathing slowed back to normal.

“Would you like to check on them?” Thranduil asked.

He knew by now that Bard could not get back to sleep unless he had seen his children, asleep and safe. He also knew that he felt silly asking, so Thranduil always asked first.

Bard stood, legs shaky, and Thranduil held his hand as the crept into each of his children’s rooms one by one, becoming more at ease with each one he saw snoring softly.

They settled back into bed and Bard curled against Thranduil’s chest as he always did after a nightmare, and Thranduil held him tight.

They were practiced hands at this now. It broke Thranduil’s heart that for all his wealth and power, he could not do something as simple as take his love’s nightmare’s away.

“Thank you.” Bard said quietly, drifting back to sleep against Thranduil.

But at least as a practiced hand he knew, that a good dream always followed a bad one. And Bard would wake up happy, if a little tired.

They were practiced hands at this now.


	34. Slow dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thranduil & Bard slow dancing at their wedding/bonding
> 
> ~also incorporated big brother Legolas that was requested in the comments somewhere
> 
> Rated: G

 

Bard couldn’t quite believe he was actually here, that this got to be his life. He moved around the dance floor, well the space that had been cleared for dancing anyway, with Thranduil in his arms and wondered at how this had happened to him.

He had a stupid smile that hadn’t left his face since the day he had gotten down on one knee, and Thranduil had smiled and answered with ‘do you even have to ask, _Meleth nín?’_.

They had practically fought over the children, both wanting them as their groomsmen and maids (grooms people?). In the end it had been Legolas who had decided, scooping Tilda up onto his shoulders and announcing that he claimed Tilda as his wedding ceremony partner and therefore as he was with Thranduil, Tilda should be too, before marching off with her on his shoulders.

He had grown ridiculously fond of her, calling her his little sister before anyone else started joining their families with words. Between him and Thranduil Bard was lucky he got a look in with her. But he had only been able to smile as Legolas trotted off with her pointing directions from her perch.

Bard and Thranduil moved together to the light and beautiful elven music being played for them. They had long since stopped doing any kind of real dancing and were really just swaying together wrapped up in each other’s arms.

Legolas had carried Tilda off when she had fallen asleep while sitting on his lap, taking her to bed, he was probably reading her a bedtime story right now.

The other week he had been getting awfully protective of Sigrid when a young man started courting her, grilling the poor lad far more than Bard or Thranduil had, it made him smile. He’d also been teaching Bain to shoot better, he had even given him one of his own elven training bows, the look on Bain’s face had been one of awe as he took it.

He was a good big brother.

Bard brought his new husbands lips up to meet his own, but they were both smiling too much to really kiss properly.

It was the best kind of kiss.


	35. Why Thranduil went into Dale during the battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> what was going through Thranduil's mind during the battle. Seriously, why the hell would the King of Mirkwood rush back to Dale when the prize he desires lies in Erebor????????? Make him question his motives because if he truly desired those gems above all else he would stayed in the valley and struck the dwarves in their weakest moments.
> 
> Rated G/T

 

He was here for The Gems of Lasgalen, that had been the sole reason for him to bring his army to the forsaken mountain. The assistance of the Laketown refugees had been a calculated moved, better they were with him than against him, and good relations would benefit him in the future.

Bard was an unforeseen variable. 

He was a nobody, and yet he was also a Dragonslayer. He was brave and fierce and loyal to a fault. Thranduil could tell in a heartbeat that he would do anything to protect the survivors of that town. But he was also humble, immediately offering him gracious thanks for the aid he brought. He had found himself almost wishing that it had been an act of kindness, not so cold and calculated.

Thranduil liked him instantly, he couldn’t help it, there was just something so genuine in the Bowman. The more he looked at him the more he wanted him, something so quintessentially _alive_ about him that Thranduil simply couldn’t resist, that made him want to feel alive as well.

But it was more than simple desire, that Thranduil could have sated had he been so incline the night before in his tent. He was sure the Bowman wouldn’t have refused him. But Bard thought they were friends, and Thranduil decided he would make sure that they were, genuinely, not like his other ‘friends’. He knew he would want more than a temporary night.

He was here for The Gems of Lasgalen, the dragon was gone the dwarves were weak, he could easily do with a small contingent of his force and retrieve them from the mountain.

Yet here he was, charging his elk down the bridge to the broken down gates of Dale, away from the mountain. He was being foolish, he had not back up as his elves were unable to keep up and by now would have lagged behind considerable.

But still he forged on straight into where the mass amounts of orcs were pouring with little resistance. He would be outnumbered, yet on he drove. Why?

Because he wanted to help.

Bard made him want to help, want to be better, he wanted to _mean it_.

He wanted to deserve that look of immense gratitude and thanks that Bard gave him.

He wanted to earn every look Bard gave him and not because he was manipulating him, not because he was pulling strings and planning ahead, playing a never ending game of chess. But because Bard made him want to help.

Thranduil had not wanted to help anyone since his wife had died. No one had helped her, not men, or elves, or dwarves. Why should he help them? That was the bitter resentment he had been sitting on for thousands of years, shutting himself and his people away, uncaring for the sufferings of others.

Until now.

After so long of just not caring about anything other than his lands and his people,  Thranduil just _did_. For the first time in so long he wanted to be worthy of someone instead of just assuming them beneath him.

He wanted to help, for the first time in such a very long time he actually _wanted_ to help. It was like a part of him was sparking back to life inside, driving him on with an unstoppable force.

That spark was worth fighting for, he felt more life than he had felt inside himself in a long time. He didn’t feel cold, he felt like he was on fire. He didn’t want to grow cold again. And the thing that had caused that spark wasn’t a thing at all, but a person. He didn’t want to lose it.

He wanted to help Dale because Dale needed help, he knew that was true. There were a hundred emotions he hadn’t had to recognise in a long time churning within him, but he knew what he really wanted to do was help Bard, and to do that he would help Dale, for that was what the Bowman was trying to do.

But this was a war, he needed to make sure there still _was_ a Bowman. He could deal with the rest after the battle, but not if the man was dead.

He needed to find the man, just catch a glimpse of him, check that his spark hadn’t already been extinguished, before it even had even had a chance to start.

He rode forward, brutally decapitating the five orcs that littered his mount’s antlers, but the elk was shot down as it came into the city. Thranduil quickly and with a grace only and elf could manage turned his fall into a roll and finished crouching on the floor.

He could feel the fury in his veins at the death of his loyalist companion. But there was no time to grieve that now, the time for that would have to come later. He was surrounded, but he knew it would not matter, they would not be able to touch him no matter how fast they rushed. He was too good.

The fighting was a blur, muscle memory he had never forgotten taking over and guiding his body and his swords through the battle, forging a path ever onwards to try and sight the Bowman.

He fought and he fought, never tiring in body but growing more desperate in mind each moment he did not see Bard, when each street he looked up was littered with corpses or enemies. Hope began to flicker and fade as he realised the chances of a mortal man, however skilled, of surviving this.

He lost his perception of time as he fought. It could’ve been hours, could’ve been less than one when there was finally a respite from the fighting.

“Bard, have you seen him.” Thranduil asked, gripping the arm of a man to stop him in his path.

“L-last I know he was in the market place, looking for his children.” He answered, shaken with adrenalin.

Thranduil released him, feeling his spark dimming. He had been fighting in the market place, there was nothing there but corpses. If he had gone to the market place he had not left. Thranduil had been the only one to leave. Friend or foe.

He did not want to check just to be faced with a lifeless body. He wanted to remember the Dragonslayer with courage in his heart and fire in his eyes, not cold and beaten on the ground.

He shouldn’t care so much, he had barely known him. But he had known what they could’ve been. What Thranduil could’ve finally been again with him.

Thranduil walked slowly, eyes catching on each fallen elf. He knew all their names. Every last one.

That spark in him went out.

 

“Gather your company. We’re leaving.”


	36. Bard is injured in battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Based on this beautiful artwork](http://losta9view.tumblr.com/post/108856307290/dont-worry-pretty-ill-be-fine-in-which)
> 
> "Don’t worry, pretty, I’ll be fine."
> 
> In which Bard got injured in a battle and Thranduil would totally smack him for that outrageous nickname if he wasn’t so goddamn worried about the idiot.
> 
> Rated: G

 

It had only been a small battle, in the grand scheme of things, probably didn’t even warrant the title battle really. A light skirmish perhaps, Thranduil hardly even considered them dangerous, especially not after what forces they had clashed with in the past.

But it is always when you are least expecting it, when you are fool enough to believe yourself to be safe.

He was removing his blood-stained armour, letting it drop to the floor as it was heavy and now unnecessary, when one of his commanders, Firverior, rushed towards him.

The look on his face said everything.

“My lor–”

“Where is he?” Thranduil demanded, doing a poor job of keeping the fear out of his voice, Firverior pretended he did not hear its waver.

“In your ten– ”

Thranduil was already running. He did not think he had run for anything in thousands of years.

They had come through the battle for Erebor and Dale years previously with barely a scratch. Yet it was a relatively small force of orcs on their borders that had caught him.

Life was so fragile. You slip and it shatters.

Thranduil did not know how bad it would be. Only that it was bad enough to make that suborn, infuriatingly brave man, lie up in his tent.

If he was even conscious.

Thranduil tore into the tent and was greeted by a worryingly pale, but definitely breathing Bard.

“Hey you.” Came his thin voice, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up, but his smile was just as alive as ever.

Why he was smiling in a situation like this Thranduil had no idea.

He swept over to his love, resting a hand on his shoulder to still the movements that danced pain across his features, even if he still smiled at Thranduil. He slid himself in, pillowing Bard’s head in his lap where he could look down to his face.

That face held more beauty and love than the whole of Middle Earth had to offer as far as Thranduil was concerned. Thranduil loved his thick, unruly brown hair, loved to feel his short bead scratching against his neck, loved the cheeky glint that was ever present in his eyes, he loved the cut of his jaw and the shape of his nose and how well they slotted together when they kissed. Most of all he loved his smile, every variation of it.

There was a bandage wrapped around his stomach, Thranduil could see the blood seeping through the material around where Bard hand lain his other arm. He must still be bleeding, shouldn’t it have stopped by now? Thranduil didn’t know.

He ghosted his long, elegant hand over the bandages and Bard’s hand, worry tearing through his heart. Mortals were so very fragile. Even Bard who so often seemed so very inextinguishable.

Well, Thranduil guessed that he did still seem so, smiling up at Thranduil despite his wounds.

Thranduil wished he could smile back, but he knew his face was clouded with uneasiness and his fingers traced the bandages likely, transfixed by the stain of red, scared that he did not know how deep it went, how to help.

Bard reached his arm up through the gap Thranduil made, where he was leaning his hand over Bard’s wound, and brought it up to tangle in the back of Thranduil’s hair. With his hand, Bard gently guided Thranduil’s anxious gaze back to his own face.

“Don’t worry, pretty, I’ll be fine.” Bard smiled up at him softly, stroking Thranduil’s hair.

Thranduil let out a gasp that was somewhere in between a sob and a laugh. To hear the sparks of cheek in Bard’s voice as if he was fine sent relief crashing over him with a force that would’ve buckled his knees had he been standing.

He would smack him for that outrageous nickname if he were capable of feeling anything other than relief right now. So instead Thranduil curled forwards, resting their foreheads together and letting the tears finally fall. Tears of relief were far preferable to ones of grief.

Bard combed his fingers through Thranduil’s hair, comforting him as he wept.

“Don’t cry, pretty, I’m fine. Or at least, I’m going to get better.” Bard spoke gently.

“Don’t call me ‘pretty’, it is not an acceptable nickname.” Thranduil grumbled, forehead still pressed against Bard’s, both their eyes were closed.

“Maybe I was just staring a fact. A useful and accurate adjective, not a nickname.” Bard grinned. “And what would you prefer as a nickname anyway? Beautiful? Gorgeous? Blondie? Most radiant of all the elves? Thrandy-pants?”

By the times Bard was done reeling off possible nicknames Thranduil was sitting back up, scowling but unable to hold in his little shakes of laughter and the smile that tugged at his lips.

“There you are.” Bard smiled, tracing his thumb across Thranduil’s smiling mouth. “Much better. You deserve to always be smiling.” He finished, brushing a thumb across Thranduil’s cheek to wipe away the tears that fell there before cupping his cheek.

Thranduil held Bard’s hand to his own face, leaning into it, finding comfort in the roughness of his palm and the oh so familiar feel of it against his face, and in his hand. Reassuring himself that he was still there, still alive.

“You can’t do that.” He whispered down to Bard, even though he knew that he had obviously not meant to.

“I know, I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen again. I promise.” Bard replied, turning his hand so that he could hold Thranduil’s and squeeze it soothingly.

Thranduil knew he would do everything in his power to keep Bard away from danger in the future. Keep him safe, he could not bear the thought of losing him, even if he lived a long life it wouldn’t be nearly enough, but Thranduil would cherish every second of it. Do everything and go everywhere Bard had ever wanted, and he would not let him go a second before he had to.

\------------------

Bard’s healing was slow, seeming to get worse not better. But that couldn’t be right.

It was four days later, in Dale, when Thranduil realised why Bard was not healing properly.

Morgul blade.

It had been a morgul blade.

There was no kingsfoil up the mountain, it grew on lower ground.

By the time Thranduil got him to Mirkwood, to the elves and medicine.

It was too late.

Life is so fragile. You slip and it shatters.

 

Death is unyielding.


	37. Thranduil's advances make Bard shy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> But what I love just as much is a VERY shy Bard pretending, avoiding, playing dumb. Thranduil, being an elf can give double meaning to everything he says afterall and that gives Bard reasonable deniability even THOUGH he knows what the king is saying AND wants it too but is too shy.
> 
> Rated: G

 

It was the twelfth visit from the Elvenking to Dale in just over four months. He always brought food with him and elves to assist further with the rebuilding. Without him Bard knew that the restoration would be making far slower process, and many may have died during the harsh winter they were just coming out of. He was a benevolent ally.

And yet, Bard couldn’t help but think that maybe assisting Dale wasn’t the only reason he was there. Or even the main one.

There were these _looks_. Ones that Bard found difficult to explain away rationally, but the only option left hardly felt rational either. He was a Bargeman for goodness sake. Yes, people liked to call him Dragonslayer and King these days, but he still came from a simple life of hard labour and poverty.

So the Elvenking couldn’t possibly be interested in him as anything other than an ally. It was ridiculous.

And yet, every time he visited, it felt less and less ridiculous.  

Bard would obviously always offer to house Thranduil in his own home – the people were insisting on building a palace, but that was a ways off, so for now he and his family were staying in a partially repaired little house in the town, just like everyone else.

Much to his own surprise, Thranduil always took him up on the offer, even though Bard knew that his tents offered far more comfort than Bard’s little house. Maybe it was a custom to stay with the King when visiting another royal? Bard didn’t know, he was utterly clueless to the role he had found himself being asked to fill. 

But then, Bard also knew that the few times Thranduil had visited Erebor for negotiations he had again elected to stay with Bard in Dale instead of with the hosting king. Of course, Bard reasoned, that may well be because of the well-known hostilities between Dain and Thranduil.

However, the way the elves that accompanied Thranduil would look at Bard curiously suggested some other motive entirely. Or were they just curious about the new king of Dale?

That was the problem with Thranduil, everything he did could be interpreted in more than one way. Was he expressing some kind of interest in Bard (however ridiculous that felt, he was now entertaining the possibility) or was he just following customs that Bard was unaware of? Was he genuinely visiting solely to aid Dale, or was he actually visiting Bard.

Even the looks he would send Bard, the ones that had started that very first day in his tent before the battle. Bard felt like he was under a highly appreciative gaze despite its wolfishness (or maybe because of it) but for all he knew that was just the way Thranduil looked at his friends. Bard knew too little of elves to be able to say for sure. And it wasn’t like Thranduil had lots of friends that Bard could compare notes with.

The one thing that Bard was sure of, was that every time Thranduil looked at him like that, he blushed. Every time Thranduil arrived and told him how good it was to see him (and Dale of course) he blushed

Bard would never before in his life have considered himself shy, but there was just something about the Elvenking that made him as nervous as a young lad with his first crush.

Thranduil would smile at his blush, but was that the fond smile of a friend or a more triumphant smile of someone who _wanted_ to make Bard blush. With Thranduil it was practically impossible to tell.

(Even though he totally could tell and the Elvenking was definitely pursuing him).

But Bard wasn’t good enough for such a flawless, perfect being. Thranduil was silk and starlight and beauty. And what was Bard? A Bargeman with dirty hair and roughed hands from daily labour, and a back filled with the marks of not being able to keep his mouth shut around the Master.

Maybe that was what made him shy.

Whenever he was staying with Bard, they would spend long nights with goblets of wine talking about nothing in particular, dancing behind conversation about trade and rebuilding. Never acknowledging what Bard was fairly sure was happening, never speaking of it directly, or giving it life through words. It linger between them, just below the surface.

“The provision you brought today will save lives, I do not know how I will ever be able to repay you.” Bard had said one evening, goblet of the wine Thranduil brought with him in his hand.

“You have already thanked me, you need not keep doing so Dragonslayer.” Thranduil had said, voice like liquid gold, he always had a beautiful voice, but it somehow seemed different when they were alone, more intimate maybe. Perhaps that was just how Thranduil spoke when alone with friends.

That was his favourite way to address Bard. As ‘Dragonslayer’, it was a title many gave him, but whenever Thranduil called him by that name, it felt different, like something hot was boiling between them. Maybe it was.

“Still, I do not know how we will ever be able to truly thank you.” Bard had replied honestly, it played on his mind often, how he could ever show his thanks in a way that did justice all the things Thranduil had done for him – for them, the people of Dale – although it often seemed as though it was done just for him.

“I am sure you will find a way to show you gratitude.” Thranduil had replied. Bard had blushed, though he wasn’t sure why, it was a common occurrence around the Elvenking.

With every visit Thranduil’s motives became less deniable. He would stay longer, bring Bard gifts just for him and his children, he would stand or sit close in the evenings spent together and each time he would hold up less of a pretence of coming to assist Dale instead of to see Bard.

Until it was difficult for Bard to deny that he was fairly sure he was being courted by this ancient and beautiful Elvenking that he was in no way good enough for. As Thranduil’s affections became more overt, but always retaining some of their ambiguity, Bard found himself with a near permanent blush riding on his cheeks and a coy nervousness around the elf.

It was this newfound shyness that Thranduil inspired, not a lack of reciprocation on Bard’s part, that had him subtly avoiding Thranduil.

He wasn’t sure what to do with himself or his feelings. He wanted to kiss the Elvenking, to take his smooth face in his own tanned, worn hands and kiss him hard. But was he allowed? Thranduil may be throwing out signs that he wanted Bard, but did that mean he wanted to be kissed by him?

Maybe Bard had misread things and Thranduil did not want Bard in the same way that Bard wanted him.

And what would a union between them mean (if that was even what Thranduil wanted) Bard may be new to his responsibilities but he was not blind to them. A joining of two kings could not possibly be a simple matter, at least it wasn’t in Bard’s mind, even if Thranduil treated his advances like the simplest thing in the world.

So he avoided to avoid having to think about it, or doing something stupid, by avoiding Thranduil.

But it was incredibly hard to maintain a policy of avoidance when the person you are trying to avoid is staying with you in your own home.

During the day it should have been relatively easy, being able to claim he was busy (which he was) and scurrying off to continue clearing the seemingly never ending piles of rubble that littered the city. But Thranduil always inevitably found him and sat with him while he worked, making easy conversation while Bard worked.

At least he could lose himself in the manual labour for the most part, but nothing could stop the light flutter of his heart as Thranduil’s eyes tracked his movements with something akin to hunger in his eyes.

In the evenings Bard would claim he was tried, which again he was, but it had just never stopped him spending the evening with Thranduil before, and he would head to bed early.

He knew what the king wanted, and he knew that he wanted it, wanted desperately. But he just found himself too shy to give it.

Too uncertain of his what his own appeal could possibly be to someone such as Thranduil. Too nervous of the implications and too unsure of how it would go, how it would end.

But Bard should have known that Thranduil was not one to be avoided.

It was on the last day of his visit, he would return to Mirkwood in the morning, when he settled to watch Bard work as he always did, that he finally brought it up, gave clear words with one meaning.

Bard had been employing his only somewhat successful policy of avoidance for his entire visit. And even though he had known (and maybe even hoped a little) that Thranduil would find him, he couldn’t help the way he tensed as he felt more than heard Thranduil sitting down.

He reached for his shirt – it was still only early spring, but it was a warm day and Bard could move more freely without it. But he did not want Thranduil to see the scars that littered his back.

He turned to offer a smile as he always did, but it was not met with the appreciative gaze that it normally was, rather a far off, almost sad look.

“Thranduil, are you okay? You look a very long way away indeed.” Bard inquired, not liking to see him anything less than his usual self.

“I fear that I owe you an apology.” Thranduil replied, Bard didn’t know what he meant.

“I don’t understand, you have been nothing but kind to me and my people, what on earth could you possibly need to apologise for?” Bard asked, confused by Thranduil’s simple words more than he ever had been by his ones laced with double meanings.

“You have been avoiding me of late.” Thranduil stated, and Bard opened his mouth to protest but Thranduil continued before he could. “I did not mean to make you uncomfortable with my advances and affections and I am sorry that you felt that you needed to withdraw from me. I had thought that they were welcome, I apologise now that I see that they are evidently not.”

Thranduil explained and Bard’s gut lurched, Thranduil had said in simple word that he wanted Bard, and Bard had made him feel he was unwanted.

Bard dropped what he was doing with a new resolve, a need to push past his own shyness.

“I’ve not been avoiding you.” He lied which got him a pointed look from Thranduil. “Okay, I have been avoiding you but not for the reasons you think. You just, make me, a little nervous.” He admitted with a self-depreciating laugh while scratching the back of his neck.

“I fail to see how that is not the same thing as making you uncomfortable.” Thranduil half-asked half-stated, not really looking at Bard.

“Well, um, it’s not that your feelings aren’t returned. It’s just that everything about you is a little daunting. I could never be good enough for someone such as you, you must know that. So the whole situation makes me a little nervous. You make me nervous, but, the good kind of nervous?” Bard tried to explain.

“You do not think you are good enough for me?” Thranduil asked puzzled, looking at Bard with an expression of confusion.

“Well, yeah.” Bard admitted. “You’re this beautiful, literally perfect, ancient Elvenking. And I’m a bargeman. I used to collect your barrels for goodness sake. I always have something in my hair, my clothes are shabby and my body is scarred whereas you are perfect.”

Thranduil stood and walked over to Bard, standing close and running a hand through Bard’s sweaty hair. Bard’s breath hitched at the touch, all but leaning into it.

“All those things may be true. But I like your hair, and you shabby clothes, you are so different from anything I have ever known before. And I never had to do anything to accomplish my position, you went from poor bargeman to king, a feat you accomplished by your sheer love of you family and you people. You must see that too me, it is I who seems unworthy of you, Dragonslayer.” Bard blushed but was ready to protest.

“You do me great compliment. Although I still find it difficult to believe that someone like you could possibly want someone like me.” Bard confessed, that even present blush deepening at Thranduil’s flattering words.

“Will you allow me to convince you?” Thranduil asked, expression soft and open, Bard nodded gently and nervously.

Thranduil took his face in his hands and kiss him. It was slow and almost painfully sweet. Bard couldn’t help but melt into it, hands holding onto the finery Thranduil was wearing, moving his lips against Thranduil’s easily, like they were pieces of a puzzle finally slotting together.

And indeed in many ways they were.

They contrasted each other perfectly, their differences and similarities slotting together seamlessly.  

And they continued to do so for the rest of their days.


	38. Protective dads

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> what about bard getting protective of legolas and thranduil getting protective of bards kids and all the while the kids are just like "wtf is going on"
> 
> Rated: G

 

They had only really just started this thing between them, Bard was hesitant to call it a relationship, but in reality if it wasn’t already then he knew that it soon would be. There was too much affection and feeling between them for it to remain casual much longer.

Finding comfort in each other had evolved into being a comfort to each other, they were foolish to have believed that it would not grow into love, Bard thinks that really, he had known that it would. But it was all too easy to understand why Thranduil was reluctant to name it so. They both knew what the future held.

So Bard didn’t push for labels or declarations, he would not give them or ask for them until Thranduil was ready.

Besides, it was written in their every touch, every look and every smile. They both knew, but Bard was happy to wait patiently, a quiet support for his lover, until he had come to terms with it. However long that may be.

As this had started out casual, they had decided it would be best not to allow it to become common knowledge, and so as far as anyone besides the two of them were concerned, they were nothing more than allies, brought close by war and surprisingly similar life circumstances.

They both understood the pain and loss that the other carried for their departed wife, never tried to challenge it or replace them, understood what it was to move on, to have something new that didn’t need to be better or worse than what they had had before, it was simply different.

And they both knew what it was to raise a small child alone. How hard it was, how you felt as though you alone could never be enough for them, how you always felt like you were letting them down.

Perhaps that was why Bard found himself getting strangely protective over Legolas. Which was completely stupid because Legolas was a least a couple of thousand years old, but the way Thranduil spoke of him was so reminiscent of how Bard spoke about his kids, that sometimes he forgot that Legolas was anything other than his lover’s son.

He was surprised when Legolas had been on his doorstep in Dale, he had known that he was coming back to visit Thranduil briefly, something which Thranduil had been looking forward to immensely, but that didn’t explain why he was on Bard’s doorstep.

“Legolas? Um, what are you doing here? I mean, how can I help you? Bard asked, stepping aside to let him in.

“I was visiting Tauriel, I have a message for you from my father.” Legolas explained.

Bard guessed it made sense that he would visit Tauriel while he was around. Tauriel herself had moved into Dale after the battle, Thranduil had of course retracted her banishment, but she found that she wanted to stay in Dale.

“Oh?” Bard inquired after the message, he was fairly sure Thranduil hadn’t told Legolas about them, and indeed Legolas’ face indicted that he thought he was just delivering an innocent message between two friendly and allied kings.

“He request me check that you were still coming to our lands three days hence? And if so to ask whether you may be able to stay a day or two longer than previously planned.”

Legolas relayed Thranduil’s message and tried not to blush at the sentiment behind it, Thranduil often said they did not see each other enough and wished they could have more time together.  But Bard was loathe to leave his children alone for that long, people would watch them of course, but he didn’t like it all the same.

“I am not certain I can leave my children for that long.” Bard replied, disappointed that he would not in good conscience be able to stay longer with Thranduil.

“Yes, my father thought that may be the case and bid that I tell you they are welcome as well.” Now at that part of the message, Legolas was clearly confused, no doubt wondering why on earth his father would be inviting a bunch of mortal children to visit.

Something warm settled in his stomach and had Legolas been looking for it, he was sure he would’ve understood the little private smile that he couldn’t shake from his lips.

“Then you may tell him that we will indeed be there in three days and stay a little longer. When do you return to Mirkwood?” Bard asked, trying to school his expression from his silly smile (he was failing).

“I will being my journey now.”

“As in tonight?” Bard asked, thinking about how dark it was, not to mention cold.

“Yes, you were my last stop before leaving.” Legolas confirmed.

“But it’s already dark, and will be the small hours of the morning before you reach the halls. You should stay and travel back in the morning.”

It was probably – no, definitely – silly to worry about Legolas, but Bard didn’t want him to travel alone, no matter how skilled he was.

“My lord Bard, while I appetite – if am a little confused by – your concern, I assure you that I shall be fine. The only soul who knows the woods better than I is my father, we could navigate and defend ourselves in there in our sleep.” Legolas assured with a bemused smile at Bard.

“Doesn’t matter, I don’t want you travelling through these dangerous lands at night. You needn’t take the risk.”

“My Lord Bard, I am older than you, you do realise.”

“Yes, and you’re also my…friend’s son. In.” Bard instructed Legolas, who was just bewildered enough to actually enter the house.

Legolas put up a token few protests as Bard gathered up blankets and set the up in the spare bedroom (if you had told him in Laketown that he would’ve had spare bedrooms he’d have laughed in your face, still at least he’s managed to talk them out of building a palace for now).

But Legolas seemed to know he had already lost and soon enough Bard was greeted by the surprising sight of Legolas braiding Tilda’s hair – that girl really didn’t waste time, Bard thought fondly.

Three days later, Bard and his children arrived in Thranduil’s kingdom, the man himself actually meeting them at the entrance – which by the looks on the elves’ faces, was pretty much unheard of.

They walked into the halls, Bard’s children wondering at the magnificence of it while Bard could only wonder at the beauty of Thranduil. He seemed to grow more so each time Bard saw him.

Tilda was out in front, jumping around excitedly, trying to take everything in, Bard smiled fondly at her, but he noticed that Thranduil was looking concerned. Bard was worried that he did not approve of his daughter then, one of his greatest fears in this whole thing had been that Thranduil would not like his children.

But bard’s heart squeezed when he realised that he was wrong.

“Little one, come walk we me.” Thranduil asked her gently, and Tilda smiled and bounced around next to him instead, but then, Thranduil took her little hand in his own. “You must be careful. There are no rails or walls on our walkways, and it is a long fall.”

Bard had never know that to worry Thranduil before. Tilda smiled up at him shyly before swinging their joined hands and chattering away to Thranduil easily as they walked, her childish conversation was taken in and responded to by Thranduil with a genuine smile, the ones which before now had been solely reserved for Bard and Legolas. Bard couldn’t help his own smile.

All through the trip Thranduil had kept a close, almost wary eye on his children, especially Tilda, but now Bard knew it was concern.

“I may get railings put in.” He mumbled one night as they were falling asleep (not that anyone knew they were sharing a bed chamber, Thranduil was supposedly in his own rooms, not Bard’s).

“Don’t be silly, Tilda may be young but she isn’t quite foolish enough to wander off a ledge.”

“I was more worried about one of them tripping and falling whether they meant to or not. Men do not have the grace of the elves.” Thranduil answered not unkindly.

Bard shook his head and buried it in Thranduil’s hair, smiling at his concern for his children, it made him immeasurably happy that Thranduil cared for them so much over so little time.

“Yes, I shall have them begin building them tomorrow.” He decided out loud sleepily a few minutes later, falling asleep but mind clearly made-up.

He took care with Bard’s children, he played little games with Tilda, and helped Bain learn to handle elven bows and started to teach Sigrid elvish upon her request, with a promise to continue her lessons next time he saw her.

Bard couldn’t wipe the soft, loving smile off of his face all week.

He loved Thranduil so much, he wondered if he was finally ready to hear it.

The last day of the visit, they were exploring the forest, well, Thranduil was showing the children parts of the forest, much to their delight. Bard had been taken on many tours by Thranduil before and knew the surrounding lands well by now, but it didn’t make the day any less enjoyable.

It was late in the afternoon when Sigrid managed to cut herself on a branch. Bard was inspecting her hand while Thranduil was ahead with Bain and Tilda. The cut was fairly shallow, and looked clean enough.

“We’ll clean it out when he get back later, but I declare that you will live.” Bard joked, kissing her hand like he would when she was little to make it better and getting a laugh from her.

“Do you have anything I could put over it for now? I’d rather not get any blood on my dress.”

There wasn’t much blood, but it was a very pretty dress that Thranduil had given her yesterday (as well as outfits for Tilda and Bain). It reminded Bard of how Thranduil would tell him stories of spoiling Legolas when he was young, and hoping for the day he may have grandchildren to spoil too. The thought made Bard smile.

“Yeah of course darlin’, here.” Bard answered, tearing off a clean strip of his own clothing (his gifts from Thranduil were more likely to involve clothing on the floor than new ones) and wrapped it around her hand.

“What’s happened?” Came Thranduil’s worried voice, suddenly almost directly behind Bard. Bard didn’t jump, he was used to Thranduil by now.

“Just a scratch.” Bard smiled at his daughter as he patted Thranduil’s chest, but Thranduil was already moving to take Sigid’s bandadged hand in his.

“Are you okay? Do you need medical attention, we can go back immediately. Are you okay to walk? I can have someone out to fetch us.” Thranduil asked, getting a little frantic.

“I promise you I am fine.” Sigrid had assured, resting a calming hand over Thranduil’s, who looked only half convinced. “You are ever so kind to us.” Sigrid smiled, thanks evident in her voice, but also hints of a question, no matter how Bard described Thranduil, they had all heard stories of the cold Elvenking. She was obviously wondering why they were the exception.

“It’s because he loves da, silly.” Tilda smiled like the explanation was so obvious, and apparently to his ten year old, it was.

Bain and Sigrid were looking between Thranduil and Bard like a massive puzzle had been solved.

“Really?” Sigrid asked, beaming at them both.

Bard’s chest tightened, because it was so very true but they had been carefully not naming it for what it was, it was easier for Thranduil that way, even if Bard did long to hear those words.

“I, we’re, I mean that– ” Bard struggled to form a sentence, not sure how to save the situation, but Thranduil cut him off, fixing Bard with a look so open and vulnerable that Bard’s heart broke for him a little.

“Yes. I love you father very much.” Thranduil stated, voice filled with honesty a feeling as he said it for the first time.

Bard wasn’t sure if his heart was going to stop completely or beat it’s way all the way out of his chest.

“I love you too.” He said back, voice brimming with the emotion of all the things he wanted to say, because it was just so _true_.

Instead he grabbed Thranduil by his clothes and pulled him in to seal their mouths together in a deep kiss, which Thranduil responded to immediately. It wasn’t a particularly good kiss technically because they were both smiling like morons which make it quite difficult, but it was still the best kiss they had ever shared.

“Da that is so gross.” Came Bain’s voice.

Thranduil and Bard broke away to find Sigrid giggling into her hand, Bain indeed looking a little grossed out, and Tilda smiling up at them.

Bard laughed at the sight of his children (mainly Bain who rolled his eyes) and Thranduil chuckled softly beside him, but not before slipping his hand into Bard’s.

He didn’t let go all day.


	39. Reincarnation!Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Reincarnation!Au (inspired a bit by that fic I made) where both have died, how it’s up to you. But for whatever reason they got their memories back, still Thranduil made no effort to find Bard. Why? Because he looked so different now (more like how Lee Pace usually looks) and was afraid of being rejected.
> 
> Rated: G

 

The thing was, Thranduil remembered everything, for some reason he just _remembered_. He remembered his past life he remembered middle earth he remembered it all.

And he remembered it so well that this new place, this modern world with all this technology and bustling cities overwhelming. He felt out of place, even though he had lived here is whole life. But he knew that a lifetime for him had been quiet different in Middle Earth. Maybe it made sense, he had spent so much longer in Mirkwood.

So he remembered Bard, could still feel the hurt of his passing, how it had torn through him, made him reckless, careless, the indirect cause of his own passing.

He had hoped for darkness.

Instead he got a new world but all old pains.

He still had to miss Bard.

His passing had still been fresh when he died, which meant that it stayed ever present in his mind.

He could remember his smile and his eyes and the feeling of his hand his.  

It wasn’t fair.

He had figured out fairly early on that other people did not remember these things. Maybe they had only had one life, maybe Thranduil was not supposed to remember.

He had a new name in this life, but it had never felt like his own, not when he knew it had been Thranduil for so very long. He had changed it as soon as he was able, he did not care that it was out of place in this world, he felt out of place in this world anyway. At least now his name was his own.

Occasionally he thought of attempting to find Bard, on days when something would remind him of his love and he found he missed him so much it was almost unbearable. If he was here there must be a possibility that Bard was as well, maybe they both remembered, it could be a blessing instead of a curse maybe.

But he never did. Bard may well not remember, he is probably not even called Bard. Thranduil wasn’t sure he could face that, seeing him only to go unnoticed and unrecognised. A stranger on the street.  Nobody. He wouldn’t be able to bear it.

But what it Bard _did_ remember?

Thranduil was nervous, even if Bard did remember, Thranduil was hardly the Elvenking he might remember. He had been royal, other worldly, as pure as starlight. What was he now?

A simple ballet instructor he was nothing special. He knew that he looked the same in general, but his hair was no longer a silver cascade down his back, it was wavy and brown, pushed back artfully but not long, not silver. He was not an elf any longer, he was mortal, and he looked it. No silver hair, no ethereal glow, no pointed ears. He felt plain.

Bard might not recognise him even if he did have his memories. He wasn’t anything here. Why would Bard even want him.

No, it would be less painful to stay away. It was only one lifetime. Maybe in the next he wouldn’t have to remember.

He was going home from teaching his last ballet class of the day. Dance was one of the few things this new world had to offer that brought him great happiness. He loved the movement, the elegance, the poise that was needed; perhaps because it was oddly reminiscent of the elves. For some reason it reminded Thranduil of the way they used to move and carry it.

Maybe that was why he was so predisposed towards it.

He was collecting his coffee from the local café before he would head out to his little electric car and drive out to his house. It wasn’t that late yet and the day of teaching dance always left him tired. Another thing that had rarely happened, but coffee help in that endeavour and a creamy latte would perk him up just enough for the rest of the evening.

An evening generally spent with a book in his small, out of the way little house amidst the trees. He missed his forest. None in this new age could even come close.

“That’ll be £3.40.” The barrister smiled, handing over Thranduil’s latte as he passed over the change.

Thranduil thought he heard a gasp as he turned and left the café, his elf ears would’ve known for sure. It wouldn’t be directed at him anyway, he did not know many people in this world.

He heard the door of the café rattle open just as he began walking towards his car, and shortly after there was a hand on his arm, light but insistent. He turned to slip his arm free and see who had touched him.

He had intended to scowl and ask them not to grab people in future (even if it hand really been more that getting his attention), but when he turned to look, his entire world fell out from beneath him.

Looking directly at him was Bard, his Bard. He looked so like he always did, wavy hair half pulled back, short beard styled as it always had been, deep brown eyes the exact ones Thranduil remembered looking into.

Bard, it had to be Bard, gasped as he saw Thranduil, Thranduil couldn’t move, frozen, afraid to break this allusion, afraid to wake up, for this must be a dream.

“God, Thran, I– ” Bard caught himself, retracting his hand and looking at Thranduil’s frozen face. “I, sorry, I, you just look like someone I used to know, a long time ago.”

It was the slight of Bard walking away that brought Thranduil out of his reverire, it _was_ Bard, and he was letting him walk away. What was he doing!

“Bard.” He shouted, even though he was only a few steps away.

He whipped around at hearing the name and Thranduil could feel tears reaching his eyes and a lump in his throat that he could barely speak through.

“Thran?” Bard asked hesitantly, clearly not quite ready to believe that they had gotten so lucky. That they were really both here.

Thranduil could only nod, he wasn’t sure he would be able to speak even if he could think for what words to say, what he could possibly say that would encompass everything that he was feeling, that he was _daring_ to begin to feel again.

But the nod was enough, Bard launched himself at Thranduil, burying them both in an embrace so tight Thranduil could feel it in his soul. Feel all the hurt they had felt and all the love they still shared.

Thranduil was crying silently into Bard’s hair, he couldn’t stop them, he had no interest in stopping them either. Bard was holding him so tight, like he was never planning to let him go, Thranduil hoped he didn’t, he clung onto Bard like a life line. And he was, he was a reason.

“God I thought I would never see you again.  Never be able to hold you again. Thran it was torture, I couldn’t bare it I– ” Bard gasped into Thranduil’s neck.

“I know. I couldn’t either I, every day, I thought of you every day.” Thranduil breathed into his hair, neither loosening their grip at all, like they were afraid the other would slip from them again.

“God I was so scared you would not remember me, that I would find you and you wouldn’t know. That you wouldn’t know me.” Bard admitted and it reflected Thranduil’s own fears so completely that he somehow found it in him to hold Bard even tighter.

“I thought about that too. I think it would’ve killed me. I just–” Thranduil couldn’t finish his sentence as he felt Bard lips against his neck, it was a feeling he had never forgotten, he would feel the ghost of them so often.

But this was real, it was real again.

“It doesn’t matter. I’m here now I remember we both do. I will never leave you again.” Bard promised.

“You didn’t mean to the first time.” Thranduil cried, he could feel Bard’s own tears wetting his neck.

“I know, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay I know. I know.”

Bard pulled back just far enough to take Thranduil’s face in his hands as kiss him so deep and so hard that Thranduil would never forget it. It felt like something was finally slotting back into place, he finally had him back.

The kiss got more desperate, more frantic before someone finally catcalled them and they remembered where they were. Drawing away from each other and resting their foreheads together, stupid smiles painted on their faces.

“Your hair is different.” Bard remarked, tangling his fingers in the brown hairs on his neck.

“Yes. I would appear that my hair was a somewhat elven trait.” Thranduil sighed. “Do you like it?” He asked nervously.

“Yeah. I wasn’t sure it was you, I would see you so often sometimes, like a ghost. But I just had to check. I like the brown it suits you, just as well as the blonde did. You are still far more beautiful that I can describe, or deserve.” Bard told him, pressing a kiss to his nose like he always used to on lazy mornings.

“You deserve everything. I missed you so much.” Thranduil whispered, returning the light kiss and starting to smile uncontrollably.

“Well, you don’t have to miss me anymore.” Bard smiled the smile that Thranduil had missed so dearly, using the hand that Thranduil remembered vividly to wipe the tears from his cheek.

For the first time in this lifetime. Thranduil was home.

They had found their home again.

They had found each other.

And they would never be alone again.                              

 

 


	40. Bard/Thranduil/Ned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I present to you all, the Barduil/Ned the Piemaker threesome that you didn’t know you wanted. 
> 
> It is an indirect sequel to my Stripper!au (chpt 3), but you really don’t need to have read that at all, it’s fine on it’s own because this is literally a highly smutty crack fic; enjoy!
> 
> Obviously this is rated E

 

Bard had been with Thranduil for about six months now, it had turned out that Bard wasn’t the only single dad in the relationship, which had actually made things easier, they both got that the kids came first. That, and Bard absolutely loved Legolas, he was the politest little boy he had ever met (which was incredible considering who his father was). And he knew that Thranduil loved his kids as well.

All in all things were going perfectly. And even though they were probably going way to fast, they were planning to move in together next month. There had been a big family meeting with all the kids to talk about it, and they’d all been really excited (probably more about the new house than moving in together, all Tilda would talk about for weeks was getting her own room).

Because as it turned out, Thranduil didn’t exactly need to work, least of all in a strip joint, he had received a massive inheritance when he was only young. He worked in The Woodland Realm simply because he wanted to, Bard respected that.

Also he got to watch. Which was an added bonus.

Especially now that Thranduil continued his policy of practically eye-fucking with Bard the whole time he was on stage. Luckily Thranduil was so good and so arrogant and untouchable on the stage anyway that it hadn’t really effected the customers’ reaction to him.

Even if Thorin was always pissed when Bard left marks on Thranduil (not that it stopped him), and threatened to fire him neither of them worried. They both knew Thranduil was indispensable to the club, and they also both knew Thranduil would do everything in his power to make Thorin’s life as difficult as possible.

When they were working, all the kids stayed together at Bard’s house where his neighbour would happily watch them at a really good rate (she had a soft spot for Bard, she’d helped him out more times than he could count over the years).

It really hadn’t surprised Bard to discover that Thranduil was a bit of a freak between the sheets, he knew what he liked and he was not ashamed to ask for it, and Bard was _more_ than happy to participate.

Bard guessed that was one serious benefit of working in the evenings – during the day the kids were at school and they could have either house to themselves, which was a relief because Thranduil wasn’t exactly quiet.

So Thranduil was always bringing new things into their less than vanilla bedroom life, which meant that Bard was not even remotely surprised when this eventually happened. And given the participants, he was pretty fucking _ecstatic_ about it actually.

It had been a pretty normal evening at the club, its wasn’t exactly unusual for Bard to get hit on by the patrons, he might not be one of the performers, but Thranduil assured him he was ‘ruggedly handsome’ or something. What was unusual was this customer in particular.

Bard had absolutely no idea how this guy had managed to pluck up the courage to try and flirt with him at all, he was so nervous and just adorably awkward. Bard couldn’t help but smile at him as he spoke, there was just something so endearing about him. Tall but hunched in on himself, like he was trying to make himself smaller, a smile so sweet it could probably give you cavities, and a little twinkle in his blue-green eyes.

He looked so very out of place in a strip club that Bard wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here.

He was also _so cute_. And not in the ‘I want to squeeze your cheeks’ way so much as the ‘I want to take you into the bedroom and find out exactly how innocent you are, then, I want to change that’ way.

And he didn’t even feel bad about that because of how much this guy looked like Thranduil. If you took away Thranduil long silver hair, made him slightly less pale, and gave him a complete personality transplant, you would literally have this guy.

“What’s your name?” Bard asked, sending the man his most charming smile, and cutting off the other man’s adorable attempts at flirting, he got a deep blush from him for his troubles, and a shy smile.

“Ned.” He answered. And wasn’t that just a suitably cute name.

“Bard. If you don’t mind me saying, you don’t exactly look like our usual customer.” He asked with a friendly but curious raised eyebrow.

“My friend Emerson.” Ned gestured into the room, Bard didn’t really care where. “Made me come.”

“Well can I at least get you another drink then?” Bard enquired with another smile, getting another blush. This guy was seriously adorable.

Bard left Ned to fill a few more orders, and by the time he got back to Ned, Thranduil had taken to the stage at started to move, and Ned was, for the first time that night, staring transfixed at the stage.

And didn’t that start to give Bard ideas.

He would never get bored of watching Thranduil’s sultry, sensual dances. Somehow even more obscene than any of the other performers despite never losing his underwear.

Bard was also yet to master not getting hard just watching, the way Thranduil locked eyes with him throughout, running his hands all over that skin that Bard enjoyed running his tongue over, always left him glad be was behind a bar. Knowing he would indeed be getting his tongue all over him later was both a blessing and a curse, the curse being that knowing that didn’t exactly encourage his dick to go down.   

Bard flicked his eyes to Ned and then back to Thranduil on stage with a raised eyebrow. Thranduil smirked at him from the stage letting Baard know that he knew exactly what Bard was thinking and was very much in favour.

Bard hadn’t exactly doubted that he would be.

If there was anyone vain enough to want to have sex with someone who looked just like them, it was definitely Thranduil.

Thranduil sauntered off the stage as the music tapered off (much to the disappointment of the crowd) and Bard lent on the bar and got Ned’s attention by speaking low and fairly close to his ear.

“You want to meet him?” Bard asked, volume set just for Ned to hear.

Ned startled and would’ve knocked his drink over if Bard hadn’t been anticipating this exact reaction and steadied the glass, before smiling at Ned again.

“You can do that?” Ned queried, biting on his lip – and wasn’t that a lovely image.

“Not usually, but I think for you we could make an exception.” Bard winked and he was starting to wonder exactly how far that blush went. “Stick around, he’ll appear later. I’m sure he’d love to meet you.” Bard finished with an appreciate look at Ned (cue more blushing) before going to fill more orders.

Ned did indeed stick around, doing his endearing little attempts at flirting whenever Bard was able to pause his serving and lean on the bar facing Ned. Who was continuing to blush furiously whenever Bard complimented him and throw him a charming smile or cheeky wink.

When they were just fifteen minutes from closing, Thranduil came out from his dressing room, walking in that slow, calculated way, swaying his hips just fractionally more than usual that let Bard know that he wanted Ned to look.

And he certainly was looking, his pouty mouth hanging just slightly open.

Thranduil slipped onto the stool next to Ned and leant his elbow on the bar, resting his face against his hand and resting one of his long fingers against his lip. Ned was obviously trying not to stare, he was failing (Bard couldn’t blame him).

“I, uh, really liked your performance.” Ned managed to get out, eyes alternating between staring and looking down shyly, if it wasn’t so obviously genuine shyness, Bard would call him coy.

“Yes, most people do.” Thranduil replied with a smirk, colour still riding high on Ned’s cheeks.

They spoke, well Thranduil leered, Ned blushed and Bard flirted, for a little while, there only being a little while until the bar shut, it was Kili’s turn to close up anyway.

Much to Bard’s delight, poor Ned looked like he had no idea which one of them he’s rather go home with, torn between Thranduil’s disarming smirks and Bard’s charm. Well, he didn’t have to choose did he?

“You were very good tonight.” Bard commented with a smile when Ned mentioned something about his performance. “Although I do prefer it when we are alone.” He finished with a wolfish grin at Thranduil.

“You’ll take it in anyway way I’ll let you have it.” Thranduil smirked at him, but he leant across the bar and pulled Bard down into a (probably not suitable for work) kiss, short but dirty, before settling back onto his seat, looking at a surprised Ned.

“I’m sorry, I, uh, didn’t realise you were together. Um, sorry.” He said awkwardly, clearly worried about the fact that he had been flirting with two different guys who were actually together, Bard came around the bar to stand beside Thranduil, still smiling at Ned.

“Why would you be sorry?” Bard asked kindly, but enjoy Ned’s blush too much to not try to get more of it.

“Well, um, I thought, uh…” Ned floundered a little.

“We know exactly what you were thinking, and surely this only makes it easier.” Thranduil remarked, voice pitched low in the way Bard loved, leaning further into Ned’s space as he spoke.

Ned faltered and his eyes flicked between them in question, Bard winked at him and Ned swallowed thickly, he knew what they were suggesting, and if the way his pupils were dilating was any indication, he was very much on board with the idea, if a little shy.

Thranduil smiled that dangerous smile of his and slid off the stool, taking Bard’s hand and pausing to whisper into Ned’s ear as he passed, heading for the door.

“So, are you joining us?”

Bard could see Thranduil’s lips practically dragging over the shell of Ned’s ear as he spoke, the poor man hadn’t stood a chance.

He watched as Ned downed his drink (which was ridiculous because it was water not alcohol) and followed them out of the club.

Bard climbed into the driver’s seat of his car, and wasn’t at all surprised Thranduil slipped into the back with Ned instead of the front with him. Bard may have adjusted his rear-view mirror to see them instead of the roads, (what! The roads were basically empty at this time anyway).

Thranduil managed to sit there, lounging back against the car door, legs lying open invitingly and eyeing Ned appreciatively for precisely five minutes before he sat up, leant across the seats, tangled a hand in Ned’s skinny tie and pulled him towards him and into a fierce kiss.

Bard had to hand it to Ned, he seemed to be able to keep up, getting his bearings and losing a hand in Thranduil’s blonde hair as their lips moved against each other.

“As much as I am enjoying watching you both. I hardly think this is fair.” Bard commented, dick hardening in his jeans – which was never fun to drive with and only served to remind him of the time Thranduil had given him road head which made him even harder. It was a vicious circle.

“Well then, barman, I suggest you drive faster.” Thranduil said like a challenge, making eye contact with him through the mirror and biting his lip as he slipped a hand under Ned’s shirt.

Bard groaned and may have pressed down on the accelerator slightly more than a responsible person would, in a race to get to Thranduil’s house (where the kids were not) before he gave up and just parked the car in a random park and joined them in the back.

He made it to Thranduil’s house. Just. It had taken all of his will power to keep driving when Thranduil had started pulling helpless little whines out of Ned by rubbing him tauntingly lightly through his trousers.

They managed to make their way inside, stumbling over each other as Thranduil kept his mouth on Ned’s and one hand buried in Bard’s shirt as Bard started sucking on Thranduil’s neck.

Thranduil moved his mouth onto Ned’s neck and manoeuvred in the circle of his arms so that he was facing Bard, caught between the two of them. Bard sealed his lips over Ned’s plump red ones, he snagged Ned’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged on it as Thranduil sucked on the juncture of his neck, pulling a desperate whimper out of the man between them.

Bard was insanely grateful suddenly, that Thranduil lived in a bungalow and they didn’t have to contend with stairs. Bard wasn’t convinced they would’ve made it up them.

Bard was backing them slowly into Thranduil’s bedroom, with his ridiculous bed that put normal King-sized bed’s to shame (another thing Bard was very grateful for).

Ned gasped into Bard’s mouth, as Thranduil snaked a hand between them and began rubbing at Ned’s hardness through his trousers again, nibbling on his ear lobe. Bard grinned into the kiss, sucking on Ned’s bottom lip as he rolled his hips forward, grinding against the back of Thranduil’s hand and grinding it into Ned harder.

They stated scrabbling at each other clothes – Bard definitely heard some tearing when Thranduil ripped at his shirt. Bard ducked his head down and latched his mouth over one of Ned’s pert nipples, which turned out to be particularly sensitive if the moans he started to let out were any indication.

Bard bit and sucked as Thranduil’s hands worked on pulling open Ned’s fly’s and pushing his trousers down his legs, dragging his hands back up Ned’s legs and teasing over his hard cock through his underwear before starting on Bard’s trousers instead.

Before long, Thranduil had managed to rid them all of their trousers, leaving them all clad only in their underwear. Bard rocked his hips into Ned’s, rubbing their dicks together through the fabric as Thranduil resumed biting on Ned’s ear and started grinding against his ass.

Ned really did make delightful little whimpers and moans.

Bard attacked Ned’s neck and wound an arm behind him to slip under the waist band of Thranduil’s boxer-briefs and get a hand around him. Bard knew he was wearing as smug smile as he had them both gasping and bucking forwards.

He pushed them both back onto the bed smirked at them, painting a pretty, sinful picture spread out on the bed. He ran a hand down their stomachs, slipping a finger under the waist band of their underwear and letting in snap back.

“Off.” He instructed them, dick twitching as they both did so. Thranduil an elegant drag of fabric over skin and Ned made a far less practiced, fucking adorable scramble to take his off.

He looked at them so similar in their bodies, Ned slightly more tanned than Thranduil’s porcelain skin, short hair somehow more mussed up than Thranduil’s ever-perfect silver cascade, his dick was slightly shorter and thicker than Thranduil’s, but just as inviting, resting hard against his stomach, pre-come pooling there. Bard licked his lips.

Thranduil dragged a hand down Ned’s chest as leant forward onto his knees and started kissing at Bard’s hip. Bard threaded a hand through his hair and beckoned to a positively hungry looking Ned with his other one.

He pulled Ned up by his chin to kiss and bite at his jawline as Thranduil nibbled on the bone of his hip. Thranduil caught the band of his underwear between his teeth and dragged them down as far as he could, his elegant hands helping to push them down over Bard ass, fingers teasing between his cheeks as they went.

Bard grunted and kicked them the rest of the way down, as Thranduil brought Ned down to meet him in a kiss before turning his attention to Bard’s hard cock, taking the tip into his mouth and suckling on it. Thranduil was sensational at sucking dick, Bard didn’t know how it could ever get any better than the things Thranduil could do with his tongue, but as he felt a second mouth take on of his balls into his mouth he stood corrected.

Bard groaned loudly, the feeling of two mouths on his almost too much sensation for him to handle. Thranduil ran his tongue over the slit, lapping up the taste there, teasing at his flared head as Ned licked at his base.

He wanted nothing more than to let them continue until he was spilling over them both, cleaning them up with his tongue. But there were other things he wanted to do tonight, so he eased them both back off of him, to a disgruntled whine from Thranduil and a coy look from Ned through his lashes – Bard didn’t even think it was calculated.

As much as I was enjoying that. I’m not done with either of you yet.” He rumbled, bending down to press kisses to each of their lips before flicking his wrist to instruct them to move further up the bed.

Ned laid back against the bed and Thranduil started kissing him and letting his hair fall like a curtain over them, rubbing one of Ned’s nipples between his fingers and getting a litany of whimpers for his efforts. Bard moved round the bed and retrieved the lube and a condom from the bedside table before kneeling on the bed in-between Ned’s legs.

Bard draped himself over Ned, running a hand down his hard cock, back past his balls and started teasing at his hole.

“This okay?” Bard check, murmuring into Ned’s ear. Ned just nodded in response, biting his lip and bearing his neck for Thranduil’s wandering mouth.

Bard smiled at him as he slicked up a finger and pressed it into Ned’s tight hole, pulling a moan from his lips and making his eyes flutter shut. Bard worked him open, pumping his finger and adding a second as Thranduil played with his nipples, biting at them before kissing them sweetly.

Ned was already a writhing mess under them, and when Bard pushed in a third finger and brushed over that little bundle of nerves, Ned cried out whimpering wildly between them.

“You ready?” Thranduil purred into his ear.

“Yeah.” Ned panted, mouth hanging open.

Bard pulled his fingers out of the Ned’s tight hole and tore open the condom, rolling it down his throbbing dick and slicking himself up. He lined himself up with Ned’s hole and pushed in slowly in one smooth movement until he was buried up to the hilt, gasping at the hot, tight clench of Ned’s muscles around him.

“He feels good doesn’t he?” Thranduil murmured into Ned’s ear, Ned nodded desperately, moaning out when Bard started to move his hips.

Thranduil whispered something that Bard didn’t hear into Ned’s ear, but he saw the resultant blush on Ned’s cheeks and the way his eyes darkened impossibly further before nodding his head almost shyly.

“Yeah, yeah I’d, like that.” He got out between the moans and gasps Bard was wringing from him.

It became pretty clear what exactly Thranduil had suggested when he moved up and straddled Ned’s face with his creamy thighs. Ned’s hands came up, pulling Thranduil’s ass towards his face and parting his cheeks as his tongue snaked out.

“ _Fuck_.” Bard grunted as Thranduil’s head fell back in a wanton moan as Ned started rimming him. Bard watched, hips hammering into Ned faster and harder and finding that perfect angle as Thranduil began to ride his tongue, taking his pleasure.

Bard could feel himself heading quickly towards the edge, and if the broken whines and whimpers were anything to go by, Ned was getting close too. Bard lent down as wrapped his lips around Thranduil’s hard, neglected cock. Thranduil jerked forward, crying out loudly as Ned’s hand’s held him fast against his tongue, Thranduil caught rocking back onto Ned’s tongue and into Bard’s hot, wet mouth.

Bard let his jaw go loose so that Thranduil could buck into it, keeping up the pounding of his hips into Ned’s lush ass. They were all close, and with one perfectly angled, hard thrust Ned cried out and came between them hard. As his muscle tensed around Bard in a vice like grip he only managed another few erratic thrust before he was spilling into the condom.

But didn’t let himself go boneless, instead sinking his mouth down Thranduil’s cock and sucking hard, and it was only seconds before Thranduil was crying out and coming in Bard’s mouth and on his face.

They a collapsed in a ridiculous tangle of limbs, come getting everywhere as they all came down from their collective high.

When they had their breath back, Thranduil smirked that infuriatingly hot, mischievous smirk at Bard and they both leant over Ned and started licking up the come on his stomach and chest, getting an exhausted whimper out of him, before he joined Thranduil in lapping the come off of Bard’s own face.

They all wrapped around each other falling into a post-coital nap, alarm set for when Thranduil and Bard really had to be getting back to the kids.

They dropped Ned back at the club to collect his car, and with a ridiculous blush (considering what they’d just been doing) Ned scribbled his phone number onto a piece of paper.

But not before Thranduil had teased them both into round two in the back seat.


	41. Music Festival AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I have this idea in my head for another, would you write it? Rock/Metal Festival AU - Black clothes, loud music, all that (and crazy people... Please). If you want.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Rock festivals were a sea of black clothes, dark hair and bad eye-liner; and Bard was no different in that respect. His dark brown hair was half pulled back, he had dark jeans and a black t-shirt and was shamelessly enjoying his last summer before impending adulthood with friends at a weeklong festival.

But the thing about the sea of black, was that if you had a waterfall of silver-blonde hair cascading down your back, then you stood out. If your skin was a shade of pure porcelain, so fair it almost seemed to glow, then you stood out.  

You stood out like a single star in the night sky.

He was tall and fair and absolutely _beautiful_. He had a strong jaw and dark brows and eyes of an icy blue that held a glint of something else, something challenging. Despite the nature of rock festivals (and music festivals in general really) he didn’t have so much as a hair out of place, not a speck of dirty muddying him or his clothes.  

He was dark clothes like everyone else, but they just served to make it really look as though his skin was actually glowing (not to mention the fact that they clung to him in a way that was just obscene).

He was perhaps slightly more reserved that the rest of the crowd, but Bard could tell he was enjoying himself just as much. Bard had been wholly unsurprised when he’d seen him heading in the direction of the hotels instead of the tents.

The first time Bard saw him, he was definitely staring. And not in an endearing way, in a-gawking-like-a-fish what-is-this-moron-doing way. Luckily, the beautiful man hadn’t seen him, Bard would take teasing from Kili and Fili over that beautiful man having actually seen it.

And the thing was, because he stood out so much, Bard noticed him _everywhere_. He could pick him out in crowds, would see him wandering around the fields, picking up lunch, leaving the grounds, coming back into the grounds. And every single time Bard’s eyes found him and he just managed to avoid drooling.

But it wasn’t just that he was beautiful, there was something completely captivating about him.

Bard tolerated three days of this before he resolved to just buck up and talk to the guy. So he decided that no excuses, the next time Bard saw him he would speak to him. Last summer of freedom, it was the right place to go a little crazy.

And god would he be a good person to go crazy with.

Which was why he was wading through the crowd, last show of the night, it was already dark but Bard would’ve spotted him anywhere at this point, this guy was like his own personal compasses north. Bard was completely distracted from the blaring guitars that he had paid good money to see, in favour of this stunning man. Which was a bit stupid really because Bard could barely hear himself think and he was about to try and talk to someone.

But as he was pushing his way through the crowd (a feat in its own) the guy caught his eye and smirked at him and Bard could swear to god that he was practically beckoning him with his eyebrows. How was that even possible?

And how had he managed to get even _hotter_. Literally all he’d done was made eye contact (and some come-hither eyes that were making Bard weak at the knees).

He was so screwed.

~~He was also hoping to get literally screwed, in the fun way.~~

When he reached the guy, Bard of course, being the smooth fucker that he was, had absolutely no idea what to say. From the amused look on his face Bard got the distinct feeling that the guy was a bit of a bastard, which only made him even more inviting as far as Bard was concerned. (It’s no fun being with someone sweeter than sweet, they’ve got to be just enough of an asshole to keep it interesting).

“Hi.” Was what eventually fell out of Bard’s mouth, there was no way the other guy could’ve heard him over the roar of the music, but his smirk told Bard that he had gotten the gist of Bard’s hopelessness.

“What’s your name?” He didn’t try to shout above the music, instead his lips danced right along the shell of Bard’s ear, making his breath catch in his throat.

“Bard.” He shouted back, maybe the guy could read his lips because he didn’t seem to be having any trouble understanding what Bard was saying.

“Bard,” He repeated, breath hot on Bard’s ear, rolling the word around on his tongue and making Bard’s throat dry. “I must say, I am very glad you decided to do more than just stare.”

He pulled back and smirked and Bard would be embarrassed if his first reaction wasn’t to raise to the challenge his eyes glistened with.

“You could’ve come to me.” He said with a raised eyebrow,

“True, but that wouldn’t have been nearly as much fun.” He murmured back, lips literally dragging on his ear and making his breath catch again. “Come on.” The guy said, gesturing in the direction away from the stage.

“The band is still playing.” Bard pointed out dumbly, Bard got given a look that said loud and clear that he was the one that was about to get played with. “Do I even get a name?”

“Thranduil.” Was murmured into his ear as his hand was taken in the guy’s pale, slender ones.

It was an odd name (not that he could really talk) and yet it suited him _perfectly_.

Bard let himself be led out through the crowd by this ridiculous and intriguing beauty who was apparently interested in him of all people, (not that he was complaining, like, at all).

“Where’re we going?” Bard asked as Thranduil let them away from the music and out into the city.

“You’re going to buy me a drink.” Thranduil stated.

“Oh really?” Bard challenged with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. I’ll even let you chose the place.” He smirked.

When Bard took him to a local diner and bought him a chocolate milkshake with a smug smile, Thranduil’s smirk broke and he burst out with laughter, taking a long sip before yanking Bard in for a chocolaty kiss. It was not a kiss Bard would be forgetting anytime soon.

“Good choice.” Thranduil said softly, clearly a little disarmed by Bard all of a sudden.

Bard was glad, as Thranduil smiled a far softer smile than anything else Bard had seen from him, he found himself not wanting to be just some guy from the festival.

And that was how Bard ended up on a milkshake date with a stupidly attractive guy.

They talked about everything and nothing, Thranduil becoming surprisingly talkative, especially when Bard ordered them a basket of chips. Milkshake and chips, Bard filed that one away for future dates (which he was desperately hoping there would be).

And when Thranduil finished his milkshake Bard kissed the ridiculous milk-moustache that he had right off his lip. Which lead to him sucking on Thranduil’s lip, which lead to Thranduil shoving him up against a wall after they left the diner, which lead to grinding and groping and a generally less that decent stumble back to where Thranduil was staying.

It was a good job Thranduil had a hotel room, or they’d have probably woken up the entire campsite.

 

Exactly five years later Bard proposed to Thranduil over milkshakes and chips in the exact same restaurant at the exact same festival.


	42. Model and Photographer AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Hi! If you're still taking prompts can you please do one where Thranduil is a famous model & Bard is a famous photographer (or vice versa) & they do a photoshoot for like GQ? Please & thank you :)
> 
> Rated: T

 

It was a privileged that hadn’t been lost on Bard when he had been asked to photograph Thranduil for the new issue of GQ. He wasn’t an official GQ photographer, he preferred staying freelance and he’d somehow managed to get quite well known in the world of photography just doing what he did, so he guessed that was why the magazine hired him for the shoot.

Oh how wrong he was.

What everyone had neglected to tell him, was that the real reason GQ had brought in a freelance photographer to do the shoot, was because Thranduil was such a ridiculous, demanding, bitchy diva that not one single photographer in the building wanted to work with him, no matter how famous he was.

He discovered this when he asked one of Thranduil’s personal assistants (because he apparently need about ten of them – probably so he could fire them without inconveniencing himself) why everyone was giving him these pitying looks.

So Bard steeled himself, and resolved to just focus on the man’s beauty and how he could capture it through his lens. But as Thranduil walked out into the room Bard faltered at the sight and wondered how he could possibly be expected to do that justice on camera.

It’s not like he didn’t know what Thranduil looked like, _everyone_ knew what Thranduil looked like. But the fact that he was still thrown off kilter by just how beautiful he really was just proved that no one had really done him justice in photographs over his entire career.

In person his jawline was sharper, his eyebrows a more stark contrast to his pearly, flawless skin, his mouth seemed plumper, hair brighter than the stars themselves, and no still-shot was ever going to capture the calculated elegance that he moved with.

Bard was staring, enchanted by the person before him, until he was rudely snapped out of it by Thranduil himself.

“It’s funny, I didn’t realise you were paying people to stare now.” Thranduil stated in a mocking tone, icy eyes on Bard.

And maybe Bard was delusional, but he looked as though he might like what he saw. Which was a little inconvenient as Bard had always had a thing for assholes.

He liked the challenge.

“I was just studying my subject.” Bard attempted to save himself, not wanting to give the other man ammunition already, not that it worked.

“Do it with your mouth shut, and someone might believe you.” He smirked back, it didn’t help that the stage gave Thranduil even more of a height advantage over the room, as if he needed it.

Bard didn’t rise to it, instead telling Thranduil what he needed for the first shots.

“You’re really going for that clichéd and overused shot? Really?” Came the derisive response.

Bard had stoically ignored him, took some shots that weren’t any good and moved him on to the next position.

Bard did his best to ignore the litany of derision, mocking and disdain coming from the model, because the way almost all of it was laced with a leer suggested that he was only trying to get a rise out of Bard.

And Bard was happy not to give him what he wanted.

But the problem was, the photos were just crap. There was no feeling in them, they were cold and impersonal. Which was Thranduil all over really, but it was not the kind of photos Bard liked taking.

And if Thranduil would just stop being so deliberately awkward and bloody well cooperate and do as he was damn well told, rather than whatever he wanted, Bard wouldn’t be having this problem.

As Thranduil deliberately (because Bard was 100% sure it was completely deliberate) held his legs in the wrong position for the fifth time in a row Bard decided he had had enough.

Thranduil was wasting time as if he thought Bard wouldn’t just leave as soon as he needed to get home. And he would, he had his kids, he had his priorities. But he _hated_ not finishing a job.

 “Right. Everybody get out. No not you.” Bard announced, stopping Thranduil with a glare and his words, much to his surprise, the model actually did as he was told and stayed put.

“You can’t just kick us all out.” One of the managers told Bard, shocked by the usually very calm man’s outburst.

 “If you want me to do this shoot, you’re going to leave us alone.” Bard explained, and apparently the thought of having to find yet another photographer to do this was enough of an incentive, because he then left, helping to herd everyone else out.

When the door shut behind the last person, Bard turned his attention back to the arrogant model lounging back on the ridiculous throne that had been built for the shoot. Thranduil smirked at him and opened his mouth to speak, but Bard cut him off.

“Before you even open that mouth of yours and let lose that razor sharp tongue we both know you have, I’m going to make one thing crystal clear. I do not need this job, I do not work for GQ, they had to bring in a freelance photographer because not one single person in this building wants to work with you no matter how pretty you are.

“Now I am this close to leaving because I sure as shit don’t need this hassle in my life. Everyone else is gone, there’s no one to act up for, there’s no audience no nothing, just me and my camera. Now are you able to behave for twenty minutes so we can get this done or are you going to continue to be a spoiled brat?” Bard ranted, scolding Thranduil.

Bard had almost expected Thranduil to storm off after getting such a telling off, but instead he looked, well, a little turned on.

And wasn’t that a piece of information to file away.

“It’s been a while since anyone was brave enough to tell me off.” Thranduil challenged with a raised eyebrow.

“Shame, you look like you could do with a good telling off.” Bard smirked back, feeling bold from Thranduil’s reaction.

“You going to follow through on that?”

“Well I guess that depends on whether or not you’re good.” Bard teased, loving how Thranduil’s eyes darkened. “Now stop acting up and do as you’re told.”

Bard did his best to ignore the interest other parts of him were starting to take in the proceedings as Thranduil immediately settle into the exact position Bard had been after for the last fifteen minutes.

Bard didn’t take the photos from a distance for the rest of the shoot, getting up onto the stage with Thranduil and taking them close, preferring not to use the zoom, he felt they always looked better, more personal, like a secret, if you really were up close.

They continued with the shoot, Thranduil looking up at Bard through his lashes and _fucking biting his lip_ when Bard ordered him about. And that was a photo that wasn’t going to be shared with the world.

It was on the last shot, they’d raced through the whole lot now Thranduil was behaving, and really Bard had everything he needed, but this photo was going to be the cherry on the top of an already pretty good collection of photos.

So when Thranduil kept innocently pretending to be holding his arms wrong by accident Bard just walked over to him and manhandled Thranduil into the right position. Thranduil mouth fell open slightly, licking his lips as his irises were completely swallowed up by his pupils, going pliant under Bard’s hands.

“Stay still.” Bard ordered.

Thranduil did as he was told, eyes following Bard as he and the camera moved.

The way Thranduil was looking at Bard by this point was just _hungry_ , eyes tracking Bard as he put his camera down, before coming back over to Thranduil and leaning right down to his ear.

“Good boy.” He murmured, hot breath ghosting over the shell of Thranduil’s ear, and when he bit slightly at the lobe, Thranduil apparently reached his limit.

He whimpered and tangled his hands into Bard’s shirt pulling him down on top of him. Bard found the model’s red mouth and wasted no time mapping it with his tongue, learning what sounds Thranduil made when he bit on his lip, when he sucked on his tongue.

Bard pulled Thranduil up and with him as he backed himself into the throne, Thranduil coming down happily into his lap, loving the way Bard was now sucking bruises into his neck and pulling at his silver-silk hair.

And by the time Thranduil started to grind down against Bard, pushing them together in the most delicious way, well, they were both already far too gone to remember or care about where they were.

Bard would’ve been embarrassed when some of the managers came back into the room wondering on progress and found them in a pretty compromising position. But it was really hard to feel self-conscious when he was sitting on a throne with Thranduil in his lap, both still riding a post-coital high.

Apparently having sex with the models while still on set was frowned upon.

But when Bard sent over the pictures from the shoot, he got unofficially hired to do all of Thranduil’s shoots in the future (and not just at GQ). Clearly having someone who would willingly work with Thranduil outweighed the trouble they got in for shagging on the throne.

In future at least they usually made it into his dressing room.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with beautiful art by [froggy_freek](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3243818)


	43. Bard and Thranduil adopt an elfling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard and Thranduil taking in an elfing after a few years together and the elfing comes into the room and climbs in Thranduil’s lap while he’s in a meeting with the other Kings and advisors. (This can be an AU where Thorin lives because it’s fic and you can do that) Thranduil doesn’t even stop what he’s saying and keeps going. And the elfing tries to take his crown off so Thranduil takes it off and puts it on them. The elfing then clings to Thranduil and falls asleep in his lap with the crown on his head, the meeting still goes on. 
> 
> Rated: G

 

It had been completely unprecedented when a few years into their relationship they had ended up taking in an elfling. The little boy’s father had been killed in the battle for Erebor when he was just a baby and a few years later his mother was killed in what should’ve been a simple border patrol.

The elfling, not yet four had been brought to Thranduil, elflings being orphaned while still so young happened so rarely that no one really knew what to do. Bard had been with Thranduil when the scared and confused little elf, not yet four, had been brought in by Tauriel.

Thranduil and Tauriel moved off to the side to discuss what should be done, unsure as to what the best thing to do would be. But Bard couldn’t leave the small child, toddler really, or whatever the elven equivalent was, standing there all by himself, so small and anxious.

By the time Thranduil turned back to speak to Bard for his input, the elfling was hanging off of one of his arms giggling happily as Bard swung him about gently, both of them smiling away.

Thranduil had taken one look at the pair of them and well, that had been that.

The little boy’s name was Rilien, he was mischievous little thing, but far too cute for either of them to ever be able to tell off properly, even after a year of having. He had four doting older siblings – really most of Legolas’ visits were purely to spoil his younger siblings rotten, but what was really disarming, was Thranduil.

Thranduil had always been a massive softie when it came to Bard’s kids, but the sight of him with a child as small as little Rilien was on a completely different scale.

And not a single person was immune to the sight of the notoriously cold elven king and his new little son.

As was being perfectly demonstrated now.

They were in a meeting with the dwarves. It was technically supposed to be a meeting of the kings of Mirkwood, Dale and Erebor, but given that Dale and Mirkwood had king consorts they were essentially treated as one kingdom these days.

So really it was just Thorin and some of his dwarves and Thranduil bickering over petty little details for a few hours. Or at least, that was what it had always been before, but as little Rilien pattered into the room and climbed up into Bard’s lap before wriggling his way across his legs and into his ada’s lap Thorin’s next dig died on his tongue.

There was something about Thranduil smiling down at his little boy that did tend to have that effect. Especially on someone like Thorin, who, come to think of it, probably didn’t know about their little adoption and was having to suddenly rethink his opinion of Thranduil as the ice king.

Thranduil curled one arm around his little boy protectively, so that he didn’t accidently fall off with all of his fidgeting to get comfy, and didn’t even pause his speaking to the dwarves as he did.

The dwarves who were looking pretty bewildered at this development. When they didn’t respond, just kind of staring confused at the elfling in Thranduil’s lap Thranduil just rolled his eyes and carried on speaking.

Ever restless, after about five minutes Rilien started fidgeting about in Thranduil’s lap again, standing up on his ada’s legs so that he could get face to face, Thranduil carefully steadied his wobbling, getting a big smile out of the boy.

“Are you okay, _pen-neth_?” Thranduil asked Rilien who nodded before leaning forward and whispering in that way that children do that isn’t really a whisper at all, but he spoke in elvish – they were teaching him both their languages, and Bard was doing his best to learn elvish himself, but it was a slow process – so only the elves that were present actually knew what was said.

And they appeared to find it quiet amusing if the way their mouths were quirking was an indication.

Thranduil smiled at Rilien and reached up to pop his crown onto his little head. It was far too big for him, but somehow they got it to stay up.

“Much better.” Thranduil nodded at Rilien who was grinning a grin up at him that Thranduil couldn’t help but mirror, before popping a kiss on the end of his nose.

“Look da! I’m a king.” Rilien turned, Thranduil carefully making sure he didn’t fall, and beamed at Bard.

“And a great one by the look of it.” Bard told him with a smile leaning and popping a kiss on his nose just like Thranduil had, like they always did, before placing one on Thranduil’s waiting cheek, leaving Rilien beaming and Thranduil smiling softly, like there was absolutely nothing more he wanted in the world than exactly what he had.

Rilien settled down, burying himself in his ada’s chest and falling off to sleep, crown still on his head, little face relaxed and content.

Thranduil continued the meeting as if he didn’t have a small child snuggled into his chest, the only clues being the arm gently holding him close and the content smile that wouldn’t leave his lips.

In fact, as Bard looked around the table, not a single person at the meeting seemed to be able to help their little smiles, even Thorin had a soft look in his eyes, a smile flickering over his face as Rilien cuddled down to go to sleep.

And Bard had accepted a long time ago that he was destined to be smiling like a moron whenever Thranduil and their children were involved.

Apparently having an adorable sleeping child at the table was a sure-fire way to avoid any shouting and even arguments. Everything getting resolved calmly and without so much as a raised voice for the first time ever. Literally.

Bard reckoned a lot of long term assumptions about Thranduil were being rethought on the dwarves’ side. He was glad, he knew better than anyone that Thranduil was far from cold.

Bard just smiled and at the end of the meeting went with Thranduil to tuck their snoring little boy into bed.

  


	44. After battle reassurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard and Thranduil washing the blood and grime after the/a battle off of each other and just reassuring themselves that the other is unharmed? 
> 
> Rated: T

 

When they saw each other across the ruined, smoking battlefield, there had been a moment of stillness, just looking at each other, taking in the impossible fact that they had both survived. They booth faltered and watched the other in disbelief, they were both stained with blood and dirt, but they were both _alive_.

Last night’s sweet caresses had not been their last.

The relief, pure and cathartic, lifted the iron grip from his heart and Bard gasped. He dropped his sword and the skin of water he was carrying and ran across the corpse-ridden courtyard.

Thranduil was looking at him like he couldn’t quite believe that he was real, that he wasn’t quite sure he wasn’t a spectre sent to taunt him.

But as Bard threw himself against Thranduil’s chest, wrapping his arms around Thranduil’s armour as best he could to hold him tight, he heard a broken gasp fall from Thranduil lips before his arms came up and held Bard _so_ tight he could barely breathe.

“ _Meleth nín_.” Thranduil cried out quietly, Bard could feel the tear of relief on his neck, he knew he was spending some of his own as well.

“I’m here, I’m still here, I’m okay. God I love you so much, I thought I’d lost you when I couldn’t find you at first, I– ” Bard gasped out, choking on the thought that he couldn’t even bear to put into words.

“I am here, _melinden._ ” Thranduil soothed, holding onto each other even more fiercely than before.

Bard doesn’t know how long they stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of such a battle, lost in each other’s embrace. He didn’t care either, they were no secret, well they weren’t anymore, not since they’d found they would be going into battle together.

They weren’t going to waste time pretending to be less than they were when it could’ve been their last days.

Bard pulled back, getting a look at Thranduil face, tears were streaking a path through dark blood and dirt, Bard cradled his face gently, looking over his face to check for injury.

“It is not my blood.” Thranduil assured quietly, but it did no more to stop Bard than it did when Bard said the same to Thranduil, both checking the other for wounds that weren’t there.

Reassuring themselves that they were okay.

They didn’t let go of each other, keeping points of contact until they were finally alone, able to wash away the evidence of battle. Bard knew neither of them would be happy until they had checked over every inch of each other, taken away every sign of strife and hurt.

Bard slipped off Thranduil’s armour and brought a warm wet cloth up to his love’s face, gently wiping away the grime to reveal his alabaster skin. Taking away the blood and the tears and the worry with every pass of the cloth.

Thranduil pushed Bard’s coat off of his shoulders and peeled his tunic off carefully, sticking to his skin with sweat and blood. Thranduil washed him slowly, reverently, checking every millimetre of skin, pressing kissing into the few shallow cut’s Bard had sustained before cleaning them carefully.

As they shed their bloodied clothes Thranduil revealed a slightly deeper cut running down his side, he hadn’t even noticed it was there, it still wasn’t bad in the grand scheme of things, but Thranduil dropped to his knees, washing it out and covering it over with his hands and muttering in elvish, fast and low, with his face buried in Bard’s hip, eye’s scrunched shut.

Bard gasped as he could physically feel the sin healing, white light shining from Thranduil, well, shining brighter than usual anyway, as he healed the wound.

“Darlin’ you don’t need to, you’re going to exhaust yourself.” Bard murmured, running a hand through Thranduil’s hair.

He knew the toll healing took on the elves if they went for too long or too hard, and today had already left their energy spent. He had learnt it the day Sigrid had almost died in childbirth, Thranduil had nearly killed himself saving her. But they were okay, they were all okay, and Thranduil spoiled his grandchildren and now great-grandchildren every day.

Thranduil didn’t stop, continued speaking quiet and quick in elvish. Bard let him, he understood what Thranduil was doing, that he needed comfort, needed to be able to help. Bard understood, he would heal every tiny hurt he ever got immediately if he could.

When Thranduil was satisfied he kissed Bard’s hip softly and stood back up, burying his face in Bard’s neck, nuzzling and him gently in the way Bard knew comforted him and he pressed his own face into the top of his silk-spun hair.

Never letting go of Thranduil, Bard eased them into the bath, letting Thranduil settle against his chest, exhausted. But his exhaustion didn’t stop Thranduil from gripping onto where Bard’s arms were wrapped around him like he was still afraid he would vanish into the air.

So Bard held him tighter still, murmuring into his hair that he was still here, that they both made it, and if Thranduil needed to sleep, he would still be there in the morning.

Eventually Thranduil began to doze in his arms, Bard’ gently guiding his sleepy but not yet actually asleep love to their bed, slipping in with him and pulling the covers around them tightly.

They slept as they always did, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Thranduil could not sleep unless they were touching, contact tethering him, a constant reminder that Bard was still with him.

At first Bard had found it odd how much tighter Thranduil held him these days, that he held him tighter after Bard had been given a grant of immortality. Bard guessed it was because Thranduil couldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe that he was being given a chance to be happy forever, just waiting for something to snatch it away from him.

Bard murmured to him as he slept that he was never going to leave him, never going to let anything take them away from each other.

 

And he never did.

 

 

 

 

 


	45. Uptown Girl High School! AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soo, its the high school (only not really as it’s England) AU that nobody wanted. This one is longer than usual as it mutated a little bit along the way ~ I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Rated: E

 

Bard was helping out with his da at their little family owned garage, had been for almost a year now, just to keep them afloat. He didn’t mind, he liked working on the cars, he was good at it and the customers liked him.

It was just the first week of summer, the summer before Bard’s final year of school, when the ridiculous Aston Martin db9 Bard knew belonged to Thranduil Oropherion pulled into their little garage –what seventeen year old drove that?! And Bard knew for sure that it was Thranduil’s and not some equally rich person because of the number plate that read: r0ya1 31k

Seriously what did that even mean? Probably some in-joke with his rich friends.

Bard straightened up from the engine he was working on, wiping the grease off his hands onto his dirty white vest. As the tall beauty that was Thranduil elegantly slipped out of the car Bard couldn’t help but wish he looked a bit nicer.

They may not know each other, it’s not like they moved in the same circles at school, but he wasn’t blind, and you’d have to be not to find Thranduil attractive. Thranduil was the rich and beautiful guy that ruled the school – whether the school liked it or not – and Bard was just Bard. The guy who worked in his dad’s garage to help pay the bills. He and his friends, Éowyn and Faramir (who Bard was pretty sure were going to become “Éowyn and Faramir” pretty soon) minded their own and tried to get by with as little hassle as possible.

Having said that, Bard and Thranduil did have a habit of throwing snark at each other, he wasn’t entirely sure when it had started, but not a week went by when they didn’t trade a sarcastic comment or insult or two. 

Éowyn liked to call in unresolved sexual tension, Bard glared and snorted to avoid blushing (he did not need anyone to know that he would in fact very much like to resolve it, the teasing would be never ending).

If Thranduil ever found out Bard would probably have to transfer schools. But then again, the snark was hardly one-sided.

Thranduil was looking especially good today, Bard wondered where he was going after this to warrant looking that good. His trousers were practically moulded to his legs (to the point where Bard wondered if they were actually legging or jeggings or whatever they were called) and tucked into high boots. And _god_ his legs were so long. Bard wanted them wrapped around his waist.

His silken hair was braided down to one side, Bard still found it hard to believe that the silvery blond of his hair was apparently natural, he wanted to run his fingers through it, he also wanted to pull it and bear that long pale neck for his mouth.

Thranduil skin was porcelain, icy eyes set off by dark brows. Cheekbones so sharp Bard reckoned he could probably cut himself on them, a strong jawline and a surprisingly pouty mouth. And everything about him just screamed rich, posh and better than you, to the point where there was almost something regal about him.

And then there was Bard, a scruffy, poor grease-monkey with messy hair that he only ever bothered to half pull back and worn plain clothes.

Different worlds.

Bard leaned back against the car behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. Bard supposed that one thing he did have going for him was that he’d suddenly grown up in the face and body department last year, despite only being sixteen at the time, and by now had quite a lot of muscle, a six pack, well defined arms, strong shoulders and a short beard that meant he had not problems getting served in pubs. He was also pretty tall, but Thranduil was taller still.

It was those damn legs that never stopped.

“Can I help you?” Bard asked with a raised eyebrow.

“The engine, it’s being temperamental, sometimes it won’t start.” Thranduil told him, perching on his bonnet.

“Might be something to do with the wiring.” Bard guessed.

“Can you take a look?” Thranduil enquired in a tone that suggest he had no idea why Bard wasn’t already looking opposed to just taking guesses.

“I’m supposed to be working on this car.” Bard said pointedly, gesturing to the car he was leaning against. 

“Please.” Thranduil added, and Bard was unaware he even knew that word.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” Bard smirked and Thranduil glared, but it only made Bard laugh.

He gave the car a quick look, and the wiring for the ignition did look a little off kilter.

“Yeah, that’s probably your problem.” Bard told him, indicating to the wiring.

“Can you fix it?” Thranduil continued, leaning over Bard’s shoulder.

And he was a little too happy about how close Thranduil was standing, so he straightened up, not that Thranduil stepped back when he did, leaving them in each other’s space. Bard wasn’t sure if it was a power play or something…else.

“Well, yeah, of course I can.” Bard replied indignantly, getting a little smirk from Thranduil.  “But I’m kinda surprised you haven’t taken it to a posh chain, an established garage or whatever, it’s a nice car and it’s not like you can’t afford it.”

“Don’t think you’re up to the challenge?” Thranduil queried with mock innocence, mischief playing in his eyes.

“Oh I know I am.” Bard replied with a wink, and was that a _blush_ on Thranduil’s cheeks!?

If Thranduil thought he could flirt to get his way then, uh, he was absolutely right, but he could flirt back at least. Even if Bard was a little disappointed, figuring that the only reason Thranduil was doing so was to get his car done faster.

It only took Bard about forty five minutes to fix the problem, tweaking up the wiring, but he was surprised that Thranduil stayed, it’s not like he’d told him how long he was going to take.

“That should do it.” Bard announced, stepping back.

“That was fast.” Thranduil commented, standing up from the table he was perched on.

“It wasn’t anything major, I’m surprised you stayed though.” Bard replied, going to back to the engine of the car he was meant to be working on.

“Why?” Thranduil asked.

“Well, it could’ve taken longer, you might be late for wherever it is you’re going.” Bard answered, thinking it obvious, gesturing up and down at Thranduil’s everything.

And was that another blush? Surely not. It was pretty hot in here, just a natural flush, Bard decided (he’d like to see who far that flush went).

“Oh, right, yes.” Came Thranduil’s odd reply, but Bard let it slide, returning to his engine. “How much do I owe you?”

Bard was tempted to tell him not to worry about it, it’s not like it had taken long, but then they’d just end up in one of those ‘no I insist’ conversations.

“Twenty quid should do it.” Bard said. They normally charged forty per hour, but Thranduil had only been here for forty five minutes, Bard was rounding down.

“See you around.” Bard said with a smile as Thranduil handed him the money and tucked himself into that ridiculous car.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Thranduil replied, before popping on a pair of expensive looking sunglasses and pulling out of the garage.

Bard wasn’t entirely sure what had just happened. But he’d like it to happen again.

The next time Thranduil pulled into the garage was just six days later.

“Bard, can you take the next one?” His da had called, still working on the cylinders of a troublesome BMW.

“Sure da.” Bard had responded, then seconds later that sleek, silver Aston Martin pulled into the garage again, top down so that the beautiful man inside was on show.

Bard frowned in confusion and walked over.

“The wiring shouldn’t have broken again?” Bard stated more than asked.

Thranduil elegantly climbed out of the car, he looked good again. Way too good to be hanging around in a grubby garage. His hair was hanging around his shoulders and dipping down his back, smooth, straight and sleek despite the fact that he’d been driving with the top down.

He’d also apparently developed a penchant for ridiculously tight trousers that made his already great ass look absolutely delicious, not that he was staring, (he was). And today he was wearing a seriously soft looking jumper that just clung to him in all the right ways.

Bard needed to get a grip.

(Preferably on Thranduil).

“No that’s all fine, I was hoping you would take a look at the radio, it doesn’t appear to be working.” Thranduil told him, stepping aside from his car to give bard room.

Bard checked there was no grease on his clothes and sat down in the car, taking out and fiddling with the radio. Thranduil watched him as he worked, which was weird because he really wasn’t doing anything interesting, but still Thranduil’s eyes tracked the movements of his hands.

It only took him about twenty minutes this time, it looked suspiciously like someone had just unhooked one of the wires, but Bard supposed it could’ve come free while driving.

Thranduil smiled and paid, thanking Bard before getting back into his car and driving off.

The third visit, just four days later was his convertible roof not unfolding properly – which Bard again fixed easily as the problem was just that it had been put back wrong, really Thranduil should know how to do that properly on his own car by now.

Next, two days after that was a broken wiper which looked suspiciously like it had been pulled off, but then, why the hell would Thranduil have done that? And it’s not like any of his friends were brave (or stupid) enough to touch his car.

It was on the fifth visit, a couple of day after the fourth that the penny finally dropped for Bard.

Thranduil turned up, and Bard was almost expecting him at this point, but it was late, Thranduil’s being the last car in for the day, Bard’s dad had gone home to relive the babysitter from Bard’s siblings while Bard saw to the last car and closed up shop.

Thranduil was looking absolutely devastatingly beautiful (as he always did) and Bard couldn’t believe that he bothered to put that much effort in to go anywhere, let alone a ratty old garage. He was wearing a deep red loose and open shirt, handing over a tight black one, with grey-silver jeggings hugging his slender legs. It was mouth-watering.

Thranduil’s problem this time was far vaguer than he had been before, so Bard rolled under the car on one of the rollers he bent his knees up and planted them on the floor so he could roll back more easily, inspecting the underside of the car, where he could not detect a single problem. He started speaking as he rolled himself out from under the car.

“Thranduil are you sure there’s n– _oh_.” He caught Thranduil looking down where his shirt had ridden up, exposing some of his toned chest, he was biting his lip.

Thranduil blushed when he realised he’s been caught, averting his eye’s shyly.

Well this explained why he kept bringing his car in.

Bard stood up from the floor slowly and smirked at Thranduil.

“Tell me Thranduil, have you been creating and inventing problems with your car?” Bard teased, leaving Thranduil even redder than before. “Now why would you do a thing like that?” Bard asked with faux innocence.

Thranduil was apparently done with being embarrassed because he just rolled his eyes at Bard, tangled a hand into his grease-stained shirt and dragged him into a kiss.

And what a kiss is was.

Bard has kissed and been kissed before, but it had never been anything like this. This was fiery and deep and biting and perfect. Bard pushed his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth, dragging it along Thranduil’s before biting down and sucking on his bottom lip, pulling a moan out of the blonde.

Bard smirked and spun them round, slamming Thranduil back up against his car and smirking as Thranduil gasped into his mouth, feeling smug as he felt Thranduil’s hard-on pushing against his hip. (Not that he wasn’t in exactly the same situation).

They rutted against each other like the teenagers they were (this was basically a rite of passage) until Thranduil panted into his mouth.

“These trousers are way too expensive for me to come in them.” Thranduil whined, but he didn’t pull back.

“Why are you wearing such expensive trousers to a garage?” Bard asked, Thranduil looked at him like he was the biggest idiot on the planet, and another penny dropped, making Bard feel even smugger. “ _Oh_.” He smirked. “Thranduil were you trying to get my attention?”

“Did it work?” Thranduil whispered hotly into Bard’s ear, making Bard rut forwards and growl, sucking in a biting kiss on Thranduil’s pale neck.

Bard nearly came in his pants at the sight of Thranduil climbing into the backseat and beckoning at Bard with tempting bedroom eyes which Bard was helpless to resist, scrambling in after Thranduil. It was a good job the top was down or there would have never been room.

They traded messy kisses, Bard pushing Thranduil back down on the seats (which wasn’t easy as neither of them were exactly small), he managed to get Thranduil’s tight trousers off of him completely, leaving him only in his tight underwear and Thranduil immediately pushed them up from the awkward, crampt lying position and straddled Bard’s lap instead.

Bard gasped as Thranduil rolled his hips down before using his deft, long fingers to unbutton his trousers and help push them down his thighs. Bard slipped his hand under the waistband of Thranduil’s pants and giving his hard cock a firm squeeze.

Thranduil moaned, head falling into Bard’s neck, hips rolling into the grip of his hand. Bard stroked him, running his palm of the head of his dick on each pull, his other hand lost in all that silken hair while his mouth left marks up his neck.

Thranduil was whimpering as Bard worked his dick, twisting his wrist at the tip in a way that was making Thranduil cry out. But what pushed him over the edge and had him coming over Bard’s hand and shirt was when Bard took his hand from Thranduil’s hair and used it to tease his fingers at Thranduil’s hole, his orgasm ripping through him as Bard slipped the tip inside.

Thranduil slumped against him and Bard did his best to ignore the way his neglected dick was throbbing in his underwear, in favour of running his clean hand through Thranduil’s somehow still perfect hair.

“Gimme a minute.” Thranduil mumbled, voice fucked-out and it made Bard smile and laugh quietly.

“Don’t worry about it.” Bard said as he reached into his pants and wrapped a hand around himself, quite happy, not to mention smug, about the fact that Thranduil was come-dumb in his lap.

But as his stroked sped up, looking for a quick release, Thranduil grabbed his wrist and stilled his hand. Bard whined – a sound he would deny forever – but his eyes glazed over as Thranduil started sucking his own come from Bard’s fingers, his dick managing to get impossibly harder.

“I’ve been waiting all year to get my mouth on you.” Thranduil whispered straight into Bard’s ear before sucking another digit deep into his mouth.

It was just about the hottest fucking thing that Bard had ever seen.

That was until Thranduil pushed him into the corner of the seat so that he could get an angle to sink in mouth down on Bard.

“ _Christ_.” Bard moaned, hips bucking even as Thranduil held them down with surprising strength.

The hot wet clasp of Thranduil’s mouth was going to be too much for him very soon. Thranduil bobbed his head up and down, easily swallowing down a lot of Bard’s pretty large cock and wrapping a hand around what he couldn’t fit.

Thranduil licked and sucked and kissed his dick, swirling his tongue around the head like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. And when he hummed around Bard’s shaft happily Bard knew he was gone.

“Thran, I’m gunna come.” Bard moaned out a warning, giving Thranduil a chance to back off, but instead the fucker just went down further, and as Bard felt the tip of his cock just glance along the back of his throat, he came in thick stripes into Thranduil’s mouth.

Thranduil swallowed as much as he could before pulling off and stroking Bard through the aftershocks until Bard had to bat his hand away as he grew over sensitive.

They kissed languidly as Bard got his breath back, Thranduil returning to his seat on Bard’s lap and barely letting Bard up for air as he lost himself in their deep kisses.

Thranduil kissed him goodbye deep and surprisingly sweet, Bard didn’t know what came over him or what to expect when he scrawled his number onto Thranduil’s hand as he finally stopped kissing him and slipped into the driver’s seat to leave.

Less than an hour later he got a text.

**How do you get come out of leather? – T**

Bard laughed as he read it before googling and finding a possible answer and sending it to Thranduil.

**The internet says talcum power?! But I don’t know if I trust it, sound dubious. – B**

It only took a few seconds for Thranduil to reply.

**Yes, either way we’re going to have to find a different venue next time ;) – T**

Once he got over the shock of Thranduil using a winky face emoji, Bard actually processed the meaning Thranduil’s text. He couldn’t help the grin that broke out across his face.

And that was how Bard started screwing Thranduil Oropherion.

The second time it had happened, Thranduil had sent him a text inviting him out to the park, it had taken them all of twenty minutes to be rutting up against each other behind a tree. The third time had been in the little office at the garage (added to the list of things his dad would never know about). The fourth time had been in the bathroom of a diner – Bard didn’t know if he was proud or ashamed of that one.

And on it went, every few days they would find themselves together. They had yet to have proper sex, their locations usually forcing them to be quick and relatively quiet – Bard had had to be pretty imaginative to shut Thranduil up sometimes. It was something that made him smug.

Bard found himself enjoying spending time with Thranduil, and not just because of the orgasms. He was a sarcastic bastard who would go soft as a kitten whenever Bard ran his fingers through his hair. A manipulative flirt who crumbled when Bard kissed him on the nose. He was cool and collected but Bard could make him fall apart with only his tongue.

They went to the cinema together quite a lot, sometimes fumbling around in the back, sometimes just watching the film, but Bard’s arm was always easily slung across the back of the seats, and as the summer wore on, Thranduil rested more and more into his side, until he was lounging against his chest with Bard’s arm wrapped around him.

They went on long drives together, Bard took him to the little clearing in the woods that his mum used to take him to practice his archery. Thranduil watched enrapt as he told Bard where to aim and he hit it unerringly. It became significantly harder to concentrate when Thranduil started running his hands over him as he loosed his arrows, seeing what it would take for him to lose control. The answer had been Thranduil slipping a hand into his jeans to rub over his hardening dick.

They were going on what felt like dates, they spent most of their days together, pretty much whenever Bard wasn’t working they were off somewhere. And sometimes Thranduil would bring his Aston into the garage with some bullshit problem so that he could kiss Bard breathless before smirking and driving off.

When they weren’t together they were texting. The first time Thranduil sent him a dirty picture he had been in a café with Éowyn and Faramir, catching up between their work schedules. He had flushed scarlet (which was amazing because all the blood in his body seemed to be rushing elsewhere) and had, by some miracle managed, to keep his phone out of his friends’ reach.

After Bard scowled at him down the phone telling him what had happened, Thranduil had made it up to him with some pretty sensational phone sex. Then of course sending dirty pictures at inappropriate times of the day had become Thranduil’s favourite pastime, Bard responded in kind with a video when he knew for a fact that Thranduil was having dinner with his family.

Thranduil had glared daggers and smacked him in the chest the next day, Bard had just laughed and tugged him in for a kiss.

They didn’t labelled themselves, never said what they were. Bard was pretty sure Thranduil didn’t want to, that he just wanted a summer fling or some casual sex. After all, what would someone like Thranduil want long term with someone like Bard? He couldn’t buy him presents, couldn’t take him places, he probably couldn’t even afford the umbrella stand in Thranduil’s hallway. Bard looked out of place next to him.

But he was happy to take what Thranduil would give him for as long as he was willing to give it.

Even if he was pretty sure it was going to break his heart.

It was just a week before school restarted when Bard found himself in Thranduil’s house for the first time. They’d never been to Bard’s either, but that was because he had three younger siblings running amuck there most of the time. But Thranduil’s father was away on business and Thranduil had the huge house to himself so he invited Bard to stay the night, and Bard was hardly going to say no.

After the past six weeks he wasn’t sure if he was capable of saying no to Thranduil anymore.

He’d give him anything he wanted until he inevitably didn’t want him anymore. There was a traitorous part of his brain that whispered that maybe Thranduil felt the same way about him. But Bard stamped it out. As much as he wanted it to be true, desperately, he wouldn’t risk losing the little that he had with him.

Thranduil gave him the obligatory tour of his huge house, it was a mansion really, there was no other word for it. But it felt lonely, his hand found Thranduil’s somewhere along the way and he linked their fingers together loosely. But no matter how grand the rooms, and high the ceilings, Thranduil still chose to order pizza which they devoured on Thranduil’s huge and stupidly soft bed.

They were kissing that night, rolling their hips, grinding together in a rhythm that they had perfected over the summer, slotting together so easily now. Revelling in the fact that for the first time they were actually doing this in a bed.

It wasn’t the first time they’d been completely naked together, but it was the first time Thranduil could really look. Drinking in the sight of Thranduil spread out on the bed, mouth kiss swollen and red, hair splayed out around him, nipples hard and peaked, pretty cock leaking against his stomach, old love bites Bard had given him littering his porcelain skin. The sight was one Bard never wanted to lose.

Bard bit down on Thranduil’s neck in the way that he knew he loved – luckily Thranduil was rich and pretentious enough to be able to get away with wearing wispy, fashionable scarves whatever the weather. As Thranduil moaned lightly under Bard’s mouth he reached a hand under one of his many pillows and passed a tube of lube and a condom almost shyly to Bard.

“We don’t have to.” Bard said even though his cock was jumping just at the thought.

“I want to.” Thranduil answered, biting his lip as he spread his legs further for Bard.

Bard kissed him thoroughly as he uncapped the lube, he’d fingered Thranduil once before, but only with one spit slick finger, not wanting to hurt him. Thranduil had come like a freight train, collapsing against the ground in a post-coital heap.

So he knew the general theory behind it, but he’d never actually done it on anyone other than himself, and even then that was rare. Much as he may enjoy it, as it was difficult to find the time between work and looking after his siblings – and no one in his family seemed to know what knocking was which didn’t help.

“You ever done this before?” Bard murmured into his ear – which he’d discovered to be a particularly sensitive spot – as he teased Thranduil’s hole with a slick finger. Thranduil shook his head and bit his lip, pushing his hips down towards Bard’s teasing finger.

“Only to myself.” Thranduil admitted, and Bard possessive side practically purred, knowing that he was going to be the first, at least like this, possibly in every way like it was for him. He found himself hoping so, and not just out of possessiveness.

“Yeah? You lie up here in your big bed and fuck yourself on your fingers?” Bard asked voice low and rough as he pressed his first finger inside Thranduil who moaned wantonly and shoving his hips down onto Bard’s finger.

“Yeah.” Thranduil panted, knowing by now that Bard liked to get an answer when whispering filth into his ear during sex.

“Mmm, I’ll bet. What do you think about?” Bard murmured as he pressed a second finger into Thranduil, getting increasingly loud whimpers out of him as he pumped his fingers, scissoring them and gradually working Thranduil open.

“Y-you mainly.” Thranduil panted, Bard nosed happily around his ear as he moved his fingers, encouraging Thranduil to keep talking. “I think about you fucking me. What it would be like. I’ve wanted you for ages, was so close to just stuffing some lube into the car so I could ride you in the backseat. I think about, ahhh, _Bard_.” Thranduil broke off in a moan as Bard pressed in a third finger.

Bard watched Thranduil’s blissed out face as he stroked around inside of him, looking for that sweet spot. He knew he’d found it when Thranduil’s eyes flew open, back arching and practically keening Bard’s name.

There a sound he fully intended to pull from him again and again.

“I’m ready, I’m ready. Please just fuck me.” Thranduil panted.

“As you said please.” Bard smirked, placing a quick kiss on Thranduil’s slack lips and gently pulling his fingers free, with a whimper from Thranduil at the loss, as Bard reached for the condom.

“You know, I’ve never, um, before. At all. So if you didn’t want to use it, we could, uh, not.” Thranduil mumbled out, blushing that fierce colour and making something warm settle in Bard’s heart at his bashfulness.

“It’s my first time too.” Bard told him between hard kisses. “You sure?” He checked and as Thranduil nodded, biting at his lip again in that way that he did a lot around Bard.

Bard discarded the unused condom and slicked up his bare cock, lining himself up with Thranduil’s stretched hole.

“You tell me if you need me to stop.” Bard instructed, leaving no room for argument. He’d been pretty thorough in prepping Thranduil, but it was still his first time and Bard wasn’t exactly small.

Thranduil nodded again, eyes locked with Bard’s as he pushed the head of his dick past the tight ring of muscle at Thranduil’s entrance, gasping out and dropping his head into Thranduil’s neck as he pushed in slowly. Thranduil winced and Bard forced his hips to still immediately, even though he wanted desperately to just slam into that impossibly tight heat.

“Are you okay? Do you need me to stop?” Bard asked, so worried about hurting him that he was already starting to carefully pull back, but Thranduil’s legs locked around his waist and his hands gripped onto Bard’s shoulders.

“No, don’t stop.” Thranduil panted. “It hurts a little, but it’s good.”

“Yeah?” Bard asked, tucking down to kiss at Thranduil’s jaw as he continued to slide in slowly. To be honest if he went any faster he would probably end up coming way too quickly, and he could tell this wasn’t going to take long anyway.

“Yeah, you feel so good.” Thranduil spoke through the kisses, and heavy breathing, as Bard’s hips finally came flush with Thranduil’s lush ass.

Bard groaned and dropped his head onto Thranduil’s shoulder as he tried not to come apart at the slightest movement.

“Move.” Thranduil whined impatiently, trying to roll his hips up, making Bard gasp.

“Yeah, give me a minute, unless ten seconds is long enough for you.” Bard groaned into Thranduil’s neck, holding himself still. 

He could practically feel Thranduil’s smirk, and then he could definitely feel the rumbled of laugher which ran through Thranduil. Bard glared at Thranduil – but there was nothing but fondness there – before taking hold of Thranduil’s dick and stroking it with a tauntingly light grip.

Thranduil’s laughter dissolved into a long moan as Bard dragged his fingers over it lightly, playing with him until he finally felt like he could move without coming immediately. He rolled his hips once experimentally and had them both gasping, Thranduil’s cock jumping against his stomach.

Bard planted his forearms either side of Thranduil’s head, noses brushing together, and started building up a rhythm with his hips, fucking him deep and slow, their lips moving together in the same way. They both normally liked it a little rough and dirty, but Bard found himself wanting to take this one slow, and as Thranduil tangled his hand in one of Bard, holding on tight, Bard knew exactly why, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it, even if he wouldn’t risk saying it.

Thranduil’s heels pressed until his back, hips shifting to let Bard get impossibly deeper and he cried into Bard’s mouth, dragging his nails down his back, the slight change in angle sending Bard’s cock over his prostate. Bard’s hips sped up slightly, feeling the end approaching and making sure to hit that spot over and over, leaving Thranduil writhing and whimpering under him.

Bard lent down to nibble on Thranduil’s sensitive ear, plastering them together and trapping Thranduil’s cock, letting it rub against their stomachs, and with one perfectly angled roll of his hips Thranduil was crying out his name and painting their chests with his come.

It made his muscles clench down around Bard’s dick, he moaned out around the new sensation and managed three more thrusts before he was emptying himself into Thranduil, coating his insides with his release.

They slumped down together, Thranduil happily trapped under Bard where he lay half on top of him, both coming down from their high. Bard drew absent minded patterns onto Thranduil’s flawless skin with the tips of his fingers as Thranduil raked his fingers through Bard’s sweaty hair.

They woke up from their dazed nap half glued together with dried come. Bard laughed and kissed his forehead as Thranduil grimaced at the mess of his stomach, corralling his still sleepy form into his ensuite bathroom with promises to lick it off next time. Bard cleaned them both off in a hot shower, Thranduil slumping sleepily against him the whole time, nuzzling kisses into Bard’s neck, he always was clingy post-orgasm, it was one of Bard’s favourite things.

He dried them off and manoeuvred them both back into the soft bed, Thranduil lazily tucking himself against Bard’s chest and drawing Bard’s arm around his waist tightly before settling against Bard’s chest for sleep.

Bard swallowed thickly, falling in love with Thranduil had not been part of the plan, knowing he was probably just a summer fling for the blonde. His grip around Thranduil’s waist tightened, he didn’t want to let go.

 They spent as much of the last few days of the holidays together, doing all the summer school work they hadn’t yet – like every other student in the world. They weren’t even going anywhere, just watching films and doing work at Thranduil’s while his father was away, Thranduil apparently content to be anywhere so long as he could sink against Bard’s chest as they watched and worked.

Bard wanted desperately to ask Thranduil for what they were, for more, surely all of this suggested Thranduil wanted something more than casual sex – not that there was anything casual about it anymore, at least for Bard. But then a traitorous part of his mind would whisper that maybe the reason Thranduil was cuddling with him at home was so that no one saw them together, that Thranduil would be ashamed of him, so they could never tell anyone.

So he could never bring himself to ask, for fear of tearing this thing they had down around himself.

Things were different when they went back to school, they didn’t stop what they were doing. At this point Bard didn’t know if he was capable of stopping. They had less time, still not mixing in school, Bard guessed he had been right and Thranduil didn’t want anyone to know that he’d ben lowering himself to be with Bard.

Bard still couldn’t stop himself though, he was clearly a masochist.

He’d sneak into Thranduil’s house in the evenings, climbing up the side of the house – which was surprisingly easy because of all of the ostentatious carvings and designs on the house. Or he’d text Thranduil telling him to bring his car to the garage later and they’d go for a drive when Bard finished work. Bard missed spending the whole day with him.

Éowyn caught on to something in the air between them, giving Bard questioning looks every time every time he had to drag his eyes away. Or the look for hurt that ran quickly across his features when Thranduil glanced over him like he wasn’t even there, he needed to get better at schooling that faster.

A few weeks into term, Bard had decided to stop texting Thranduil back, he wondered if he was being unfair to him, the blonde had never promised him anything. It didn’t matter, he was starting a policy of self-preservation.

It didn’t even last a day.

Because the very next morning Thranduil passed by him and subtly pressed a note into his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze as he did so.

Bard couldn’t help his curiosity and he un-scrunched the piece of paper with a couple of lines of Thranduil’s elegantly sloping writing on it.

_Did your phone stop working last night? Is everything okay? ~~I missed you, you know~~. Also I was going to send you a lovely little photo, but I guess you missed out…_

There was something scratched out in the middle of the note that Bard couldn’t read.

“Who’s that from?” Faramir asked, walking over to join Bard by their lockers.

“No one.” Bard evaded, unsubtly stuffing it into his pocket, Faramir chuckled and clapped Bard on the shoulder as they made their way to class.

Bard slipped a note into Thranduil’s locker before the end of school in his chicken scratch writing.

_Sorry, phone was on the fritz, should be back in action this evening ;)_

It wasn’t true of course, his phone was fine he’d just been ignoring it. But when he had opened up Thranduil’s thread on his phone, there were a string of increasingly concerned messages, he hadn’t meant to worry him, he didn’t like the thought that he had made him worry.

If he could, he would make sure Thranduil never had to worry about anything ever again.

Bard texted him in the evening and ended up sneaking over to his house and fucking him into the mattress while trying to keep him quiet.

Bard was so confused, Thranduil kissed him like he missed him, but then it felt like he was only there for sex these days, neither of them tending to stay ling after anymore. They weren’t spending the whole day together anymore, so why waste time, straight to the point right? That’s what it felt like.

But while they were still in their post-sex daze, Thranduil would still cuddle into him, let him pet his hair and hum happily falling asleep on Bard, and Bard would think that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t alone in this.

But then Thranduil would tense up and pull away and Bard’s heart would crack a little as he knew he should leave.

He still couldn’t stop though, trying to force himself to be content with what he could get.

Éowyn, ever observant, was getting suspicious of something, even if she had no idea what. He hadn’t told them because he knew it was going to end in tears, but he didn’t want anyone being a voice of reason and telling him to get out now. He imagined Thranduil hadn’t told anyone because he was Thranduil and Bard was Bard.

“What’s going on with you and Thranduil? Your UST has taken itself to a new level.” She had joked, about halfway through the term, but there had been a note of genuine curiosity there.

Well, little did she know it was actually getting quite thoroughly resolved at the moment.

It was more the feelings that he was pretty sure were unrequited that was wearing on Bard.

She gently prodded at the issue, well issues, she knew Bard was down about something and she could sense something between him and Thranduil, but she hadn’t worked out that they were connected. After all, what was someone like Thranduil doing with someone like Bard?

She asked him why he was down and occasionally she separately teased him about his and Thranduil’s ‘UST’. Bard knew it was more out of compassion as a friend that nosiness.

It was later, just a week before half-term when he finally cracked spilled his guts to her, showing up on her doorstep and eleven in the evening.

He’s run straight from Thranduil’s house. He and Thranduil had almost been caught by his father and Thranduil had all but kicked him out the window with his clothes bundled in his arms.

Bard got it, he really did, but he didn’t want to be a dirty little secret, didn’t want to be Thranduil just dipping into the rougher side only to inevitably discard him later. What if he was just playing out some little fantasy of Thranduil, or if he was just getting this out of his system before he started actually dating people like him instead.

He knew Thranduil hadn’t meant to be cold, terrified of his father finding them. And he wasn’t doing anything wrong, he’d never made Bard any promises or asked to be more than casual. But for Bard it was the straw that broke the camel’s back.

Her dad was a complete softie and let him straight in, probably because of the expression on his face.

“She’s in her room.” Théoden told him. “You need anything?”

Bard shook his head and tried to smile, before heading up the stairs.

Éowyn was surprised when he arrived in her bedroom so late and unannounced, but she took one look at him before he was sitting next to her on the bed, eating the ice cream she had collected up from downstairs with a couple of spoons.

“So, you going to tell me what’s been up?” She asked gently.

Bard nodded, but didn’t actually start speaking until half-way through the ice cream, she stayed quiet until he was ready to speak.

He told her everything she listened and pretended not to hear his voice breaking when he found himself talking about all the things he loved in him. It was the first time he’s said it out loud, acknowledged it at all. Even though it had been true for a while.

“Are you sure he doesn’t feel the same way?” She asked, Bard gave her a questioning look. “It’s just, I see him looking at you when you’re not looking, and his face is just, I don’t know, open?”

Bard thought he knew the look she was talking about, he had seen it a lot during the summer, but not since.

“I don’t know.” Bard sighed, because he just didn’t. Sometimes he would find himself believing just for a second, only for it to be snatched away the next.

“Maybe you should ask him.” Éowyn suggested gently.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to risk ruining it.”

“Bard, at the moment it’s ruining you.”

“I know.”

Bard had resolved that night to start weaning himself off of Thranduil, because if he didn’t it was going to break him.

But it was half-term, and for one glorious week, things between them slipped right back into what they had been during the summer. Every day spent in each other’s company. Bard took him out to the clearing and started to teach him how to shoot, they watched shitty films, Thranduil settling against his chest and falling asleep in the middle of the day as Bard stroked his hair. He bought his car into the shop because his ‘heater wasn’t working and it was getting cold out’ (his heater was fine, Bard warmed him up in the backseat anyway).

And Bard was just so _happy_ that he was finding it hard to believe that all of this feeling was coming solely from his own end. One night they’d ended up in a field dancing alone under the stars with the radio playing out of Thranduil’s car one night for god sake.

Bard was ready to talk to Thranduil about it, ask for more, ask to be an official thing. But then Monday back at school rolled around and Bard wondered if it was a different problem to the one he thought.

Bard wondered if Thranduil really was ashamed of him, the though left a bitter taste in his mouth. He didn’t think that was the case, not shame. But that didn’t mean Thranduil would want the school to know who he’d been sleeping with.

Maybe they could keep it quiet, only them knowing what they were to each other. But then, that wasn’t really different to what they were doing now anyway.

Bard didn’t want to be a dirty little secret anymore. But the thought of losing Thranduil, or even make things difficult for him turned his stomach.

Things weren’t exactly like they were last term. Bard forced himself to find the time for Thranduil, still managing to go on little dates – because that is what they were even if neither of them said it – and not leaving immediately after sex. He could tell they both felt better for it.

Bard wanted to go public. But he didn’t _need_ to. He knew what they were even if they weren’t saying it. It was shouted in the fact that they spent all the free time they had together, in the way Thranduil would laugh and smile and come apart for him, and they weren’t sleeping with other people, they both knew that.

So Bard contented himself, he had what he wanted really. And he genuinely was happy with it. Letting himself love Thranduil was far less exhausting than denying it, and maybe when the school year ended Thranduil wouldn’t mind Bard finally saying what he’d wanted to all this time.

But for now, Bard smiled and held him when they were along, and minded his own as he always had done at school, but he still smiled because he knew that Thranduil’s lips would still be on his before the day was out.

It might’ve been a secret, but it wasn’t casual for either of them.

So when Thranduil uncertainly invited Bard to his fast approaching, huge birthday bash. Bard had barely thought about his reply.

Thranduil was dropping Bard back at his house late Sunday night, biting on his lip and looking like he was struggling to find words, which was not like him at all (well, apart from when he was unable to string a sentence together for other reasons entirely).

“What is it Thran?” Bard smiled at him from the passenger seat.

Thranduil really was incredibly cute when he got all shy. He also knew that he was the only one who ever shortened Thranduil’s name, everyone else getting glared at when they did it, whereas Thranduil just blushed a soft smile when Bard did.

“Um, you know it’s my birthday Friday. The party and everything. Well, you know, you could come? If you want I mean.” Thranduil offered.

Bard took his hesitancy for Thranduil not wanting to be rude (which was amazing because normally he didn’t worry about little things like that), inviting Bard because it was the polite thing to do, but honestly Bard would be so out of place there, people would notice.

Besides, he had a birthday surprised ready for Thranduil on Saturday, he didn’t need to crash his party.

“Whatever would everyone say?” Bard gasped in mock scandal before smiling at Thranduil, who was still looking adorably hesitant. “Don’t worry about it, you don’t need to invite me, it’s fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Bard reassured, placing a quick kiss on the end of Thranduil’s nose and heading inside.

He missed the look of hurt and disappointment that passed across Thranduil’s face.

Over the next couple of days, Bard noticed Thranduil was a little down.

“What’s wrong?” Bard had asked, nosing into Thranduil’s neck.

“Nothing.” Thranduil had responded with a sigh.

“Lies.” Bard fake gasped before smiling softly. “You promise you’ll tell me when you’re ready?”

He felt Thranduil nod. Bard personally hated it when people tried to force him to speak, he needed time to work out his thoughts for himself before he told anyone else. He was happy to wait until Thranduil was ready, in all aspects of their relationship.

So when come Friday Bard got grabbed about the collar and dragged into an empty classroom by Tauriel, he was a little surprised.

“What the hell!” Bard exclaimed as she slammed the door behind them.

They didn’t really know each other, all Bard knew was that she was Thranduil’s best friend, he reckoned it was probably because he knew she wasn’t hanging around him for the status and his money.

“What the hell is your problem?” Tauriel shouted at him, shocking and confusing Bard in equal measure. “Oh don’t pull that face we both know what I’m talking about.”

“I really don’t?” Bard replied honestly, hoping for an explanation.

“Come off it I know you two are sleeping together.” She glared. And Bard really was surprised, he hadn’t pegged her for one who would care, let alone react this badly, what the hell did she think Bard was doing to warrant this reaction?!

“Okay, but that’s really none of your business.” Bard answered coolly, crossing his arms over his chest defensively, god what if this got around. He really didn’t want Thranduil to feel trapped if he wasn’t ready to tell people.

“It damn well is my business if you’re hurting my friend.” She glowered and Bard prickled, he would _never_.

“I would _never_.” He said fiercely. 

“He’s breaking his heart for you and you think that having casual sex with him isn’t hurting him. God he’s just waiting for you to decide you’re done and leave him in the dust.” She scolded him

“It isn’t casual. What are you talking about?”  Bard replied, growing more and more confused.

“Oh yeah, then why are you keeping it a secret?” She accused.

“Because Thran doesn’t want people to know, uh, does he?” Bard faltered at Tauriel’s changing expression, from anger to resignation, he was suddenly unsure if that was actually the case.

“Oh my god. Did you to ever even talk about it, with actual words?” Tauriel groaned, all the anger in her voice replaced with sheer frustration.

“Um, no.” But admitted sheepishly – he was a little worried she was going to slap him or something.

“Boys are so stupid it’s incredible.” Tauriel sighed in exasperation.

“What’re you talking about?” Bard asked tentatively.

“I’m talking about the fact that Thranduil would shout it from the rooftops, put up a massive billboard saying ‘I love Bard’ if he thought you’d let him!” Tauriel shouted, and that time she did smack Bard upside the head, but it wasn’t hard, just annoyed.

“Why wouldn’t I let him?” Bard asked, really confused by this point, (and more than a little bit hopeful at what she was saying).

“Because he’s convinced, and until about two minutes ago so was I, that you only wanted casual sex, that you didn’t want anything serious, that you wouldn’t want to be caught with someone like Thranduil.” Tauriel explained like it was the most obvious thing, but it sounded completely stupid to Bard.

“Why the hell would I be ashamed of Thranduil?” Bard asked incredulously.

“You’ve got the free and easy greaser-monkey thing going on and he’s a trust-fund baby, you do the math.” She replied shortly.

“Oh god.” Bard groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Communication was clearly not their strong point.

“Yes oh god.” She glared, but there was no heat in it now she’s realised that Bard was just a moron.

“I need to fix it.” Bard stated, already thinking about what he could do.

“Yes you do.” She agreed with a raised eyebrow and what looked like the beginnings of a smile as she rolled her eyes and swept out the room.

Bard smiled to himself, he knew exactly how he was going to fix this and let Thranduil know exactly how he felt, because apparently the idiot didn’t know. Well, Bard was going to change that.

And that was how Bard had ended up at Thranduil’s birthday party later that day, backstage – because of course Thranduil had a stage for all the paid performers there for his party, Bard wasn’t surprised.

Bard had learnt over the summer, that Thranduil was a sucker for big romantic gestures, if his favourite films were anything to go by (Bard was under threat not to ever disclose what those films were to another living soul). With the combined knowledge of this and knowing what one of Thranduil favourite guilty pleasure songs, Bard had known exactly what to do.

The intro to the song played and Bard saw Thranduil’s head snap up at hearing the start of a song he would never admit to loving to anyone but Bard, but then he saw Bard, his mouth dropped into a little ‘o’, someone was trying to talk to him, but Bard had his full attention.

“Uptown girl  
She's been living in her uptown world  
I bet she's never had a backstreet guy  
I bet her momma never told her why”

Bard sang, winking at Thranduil, changing his expression from confusion into that blush that Bard loved so much.

“I'm gonna try for an uptown girl  
She's been living in her white bread world  
As long as anyone with hot blood can  
And now she's looking for a downtown man  
That's what I am  
  
And when she knows what  
She wants from her time  
And when she wakes up  
And makes up her mind

She'll see I'm not so tough  
Just because  
 _I'm in love_ _with an uptown girl_ ”

Thranduil’s face was taken over by a disbelieving little smile that broke into possibly the biggest smile Bard had ever seen Thranduil wear as he sang through the song, emphasising that line every time as he grinned his way through the song that was weirdly perfect for them, even if the gender pronouns were a little off. Bard didn’t care, he could see on Thranduil’s face that he was getting the message loud and clear.

“Uptown girl  
She's my uptown girl  
Don’t you know I'm in love  
With an uptown girl

My uptown girl”

Bard sang through the entire song, and as he repeated the last few lines with the music he took a moment to be amused by just how confused everyone was.

It went to shock then understanding as they watched Thranduil run across the space between them and tackle Bard down on the stage before he’d even finished the last note.

“Hey uptown girl.” Bard grinned up at him, feeling stupidly happy as he smiled like a moron.

Thranduil dove down and kissed him hard and fierce right there in front of everyone. It was hard to kiss when you were smiling as wide as they were, they didn’t care, it was still the best kiss they’d ever had.

“I love you so much.” They said in accidental unison as Thranduil pulled back, making them both laugh as Thranduil rested their foreheads together

“I love you.” Thranduil said, like it was cathartic just to be able to say it, and Bard knew exactly how he felt.

“I love you too.” He smiled up at him. “Although I think we need to work on our communication.” Bard grinned, Thranduil laughed loudly and Bard dissolved into it with him, not being able to stop even when there were tears running down their face, they had been such idiots.

When they finally managed to stop laughing – but not before Bard felt like he’d done two hundred sit-ups – Thranduil helped him up from the floor where he’d knocked him down.

He went to kiss him, but Bard caught him round the waist and dipped him right there in front of everyone, before bending over and kissing him soundly.

The rest of the year was the best Bard had had yet.

(Although they did keep getting in trouble for sending each other dirty messages in class).

And every year after that just got better and better.

  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Thrandy's car](http://pictures.topspeed.com/IMG/crop/201209/2013-aston-martin-db9_800x0w.jpg)
> 
> [Uptown Girl](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hCuMWrfXG4E) just in case there are heathens out there who don't know the song


	46. Drunk dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> there is a celebration of a something in dale and bard invites thranduil and late in the evening people are dancing and bard is just a tiny bit drunk and he asks thranduil (who as a matter of fact isn’t very sober ether) for a dance and for a second thrandy’s like “wait i’m a king i don’t dance what the hell" but then he agrees and i don’t know i just want thranduil dancing with bard both of them sweaty and grinning at eachother and the musicians suddenly switch to a love song because literally everyone can see what’s happening here
> 
> Rated: G

 

No matter how Bard had tried to stop them, the people of Dale had insisted on throwing a ridiculous birthday celebration for their new king. Bard would rather it wasn’t for his birthday, he usually didn’t bother celebrating at all, but he knew that his people needed a distraction so he couldn’t begrudge them too much.

They were just coming out of the winter, spring slowly starting to show itself. They had survived a dragon, a huge battle and a harsh winter (although for that one he owed a lot to Thranduil), they deserved a day of relaxation and celebration. So if Bard’s birthday was the only occasion they could think of as an excuse, then so be it.

It was still a week until the day itself, and Bard could already tell how big the party was going to be. But his people were smiling and chattering excitedly about it, so Bard didn’t really mind.

“My lord Bard.” Percy called, running up the street towards Bard.

“Bard, Percy, just Bard, like it has been since I was a boy. What is it?” Bard smiled at his old friend, who normally did call him Bard to be fair, it was something Bard had drilled into them quite early on, ‘my lord’ just felt…weird. Those titles belonged to great kings, like Thranduil, tall and regal, strong and beautiful.

 _Really_ beautiful.

As it was, they had become good friends, Thranduil offering his help to Bard and by extension the people of Dale and seeing them through the winter, and Bard would (had to) content himself with just friendship. It was more than anyone else seemed to enjoy from the Elvenking anyway.

“We were wondering if there was anyone you wished to invite from Mirkwood or Erebor to the celebration next week? It is your birthday after all.”

“King Thranduil.” Bard replied without really thinking. “He’ll no doubt bring an entire entourage with him.” Bard smiled fondly to himself before he frowned as another thought occurred to him. “But we can’t really invite the elves and not someone from Erebor.” Bard sighed, especially given that you could actually see Dale from Erebor, and knowing Thranduil he’d make sure the dwarves knew.

“Yes, probably not a good idea to get the in middle of that feud.” Percy sighed.

“Send an invite to the dwarves as well.” Bard decided reluctantly.

“You’re going to risk having them both in the same room?”

“I’m sure they’ll be able to keep away from each other, besides I’ll make Thranduil promise not to cause trouble or he won’t get invited next time.” Bard smirked, remembering how Thranduil had been outraged last month when Bard hadn’t told him about Tilda’s birthday, even though it had only been a tiny party. He had immediately returned with a brand new dress for a delighted Tilda

Bard walked away smiling at the memory, not seeing the curious look Percy was studying him with.  

Thranduil of course accepted the invitation, bringing with him a party of ten elves and an entire cart filled with wine. Bard snorted when he saw it, completely unsurprised, Thranduil was a complete wine snob. Thranduil had insisted on coming a couple of days early so that he could make last minute improvements to the plans.

Which of course included pouting to Bard for inviting the dwarves, Bard just laughed and told him not to be such a baby, getting a glare from Thranduil.

“Also, you have to promise me not to start any arguments, fights, or all out wars with them.” Bard told him.

“Or what?” Thranduil challenged with a devilish look in his eyes.

“Or you won’t be invited next time.” Bard smirked back.

“Fine I will not start anything.” Thranduil relented easily, but the real meaning there wasn’t lost on Bard.

“And if the dwarves do you will rise above it.” Bard added pointedly, getting a scowl from Thranduil at having his loophole closed.

“Fine.” Thranduil grumbled, making Bard grin at him before going back to his papers.

 

The party was huge, the feast was vast and bountiful, the huge hall stuffed to bursting with the people of Dale it felt more like a small festival to Bard as the people of Dale spilled out from the great hall and into the streets, setting up tables outside as well, keeping the chill that lingered in the air off through sheer merriment (and a certain amount of wine and ale).

It was noisy and lively, the hall filled with shouts and laughter, including the peels of it that an increasingly tipsy Bard was getting out of the equally tipsy Thranduil. The tables were unceremoniously pushed back and stacked against the walls to turn the hall into a large dance floor. The musicians surprised a laugh out of Bard as they jumped up on the high table where Bard, Thranduil and Dain sat with a few advisors, deciding to use it as their stage for the night.

Thranduil looked shocked at the musicians taking over the table top in front of him, but it broke into a smile as they burst into lively music. The room and streets just outside were taken over by the people of Dale dancing around in the unruly way that Bard had always been fond of, all jumping and clapping and throwing each other around.

It took about two minutes before the five dwarves that were attending threw themselves into the dancing, laughing heartily and stomping with the music. Far more surprisingly, it only took another ten minutes for the more inebriated of the elves to join in too, Tauriel whisking up an excited Tilda and dancing of with her into the throng, giggling away.

Bard saw a soft smile on Thranduil’s face as they watched everyone and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to drag Thranduil out into the dancing, he should have more fun than he allowed himself, Bard wanted to make him smile more and wider than he usually did.

“Come on.” Bard said, making sure Thranduil could hear him above the din as he stood and extended his hand to Thranduil, wiggling his fingers at him with an impish grin at Thranduil’s confused expression, which then turned into a big smile.

Thranduil got up quickly, swaying a little, making Bard laugh at him.

“Had a little too much?” He teased grabbing hold of Thranduil’s hand and tugging him with him, going around the table-come-stage.

“Shut up.” Thranduil grumbled, letting Bard pull him along happily, before stopping suddenly. “Wait.”

“What?” Bard asked, smiling at Thranduil’s adorably conflicted face, getting a cute little scrunch between his eyebrows.

“I’m a king, I don’t _dance_?!” Thranduil exclaimed like he was confused at himself, but he didn’t let go of Bard’s hand.

“Well this king does, and he’d like to dance with you. And isn’t it rude to refuse a king? Especially on his birthday?” Bard reasoned teasingly, batting his eyes in a way he would never have without three glasses of wine beforehand.

Thranduil snorted at him and Bard grinned as Thranduil let him tug him into the dancing.

The other dancers made room for them easily, they were shooting them curious and delighted looks as the two kings caught into the loosely defined steps with everyone else.

It was loud and lively and Bard swung Thranduil around and Thranduil lifted Bard and they both were grinning like morons the whole time. Probably because of the wine as well as the nature of the dance, Thranduil was failing to retain any of his usual grace, both of them dissolving into giggles as Thranduil tripped straight into Bard, who caught him easily before laughing his ass off.

The Elvenking slapped his chest but he was laughing as well and they didn’t bother to step out of each other’s arms as they continued to stumble through the steps, beaming and practically cackling at each other as they both completely butchered the dance steps.

Something which Thranduil would later blame on the wine whereas Bard just accepted that he could not dance.

Either way, they were hanging onto each other to try and not fall (and to at least drag the other down with them as they did) even when the song changed into a line dance, causing a bit of trouble for the other dancers as they blocked the way trying to muffle giggles in each other’s clothes (not that they were noticing anything other than each other at this point).

They missed the look that the musicians shared between themselves before they slowly and seamlessly transitioned into a slow song.

Bard didn’t even notice that they were now just swaying bundled up in each other’s arms until he felt a pair of lips press against his neck in a light but sure kiss.

Bard felt like his smile was going to break his face in half as he buried his face in Thranduil’s silvery hair and pressed sure kisses of his own there.

               


	47. A drunken bowman and the ‘elfy king’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> but what about drunk bard taking thranduil’s crown and walking around trying to impersonate him while thranduil is just watching like “what the hell” 
> 
> Rated: G

 

Thranduil was watching a pretty inebriated Bard stumbling around the dining room they were in. It was one of the smaller ones in the Woodland Realm, one that Thranduil preferred when it was just the two of them.

Thranduil knew he had that fond smile playing on his lips, as he so often did around his Bowman, unable and not wanting to stop it. He had not smiled so easily and so often since Legolas was just an elfling.

Bard bumped into the table and would’ve landed in a pile on the floor, but Thranduil hands were there to catch him, laughing easily at the state of his lover. Bard was a happy drunk, cute even, beaming away as he stumbled around, often coaxing Thranduil into dancing or singing to him or telling him stories of ages past with that goofy-drunk smile of his.

“Shouldn’t laugh at me, that’s rude.” Bard slurred, gently slapping a hand against Thranduil’s chest.

“Yes but you are very amusing when you’re drunk.” Thranduil replied, pressing a kiss to the end of Bard’s nose.

“Mm not drunk.” Bard protested indignantly, but the way he was leaning against Thranduil for gentle support and slurred his words a little were only two of many things that proved how false that statement was, and they both knew it.

“You present state would beg to differ.” Thranduil grinned at him, resting a hand on his hip to keep him from swaying where he stood in the soft vee of Thranduil’s legs from where he was perched on the table top.

“S’not fair, you drank jus’ as much as me.” Bard whined, but he was absentmindedly picking at non-existent fluff on Thranduil’s gown and sloping into his space.

“True, but you always seem to forget that unless it is dorwinion wine it has very little effect on me. So trying to match me goblet for goblet on that ale was probably a little silly.” Thranduil grinned again, knocking their noses together.

“Why do I always forget that?” Bard sighed, their foreheads gently resting together.

“Probably because you don’t remember in the morning.” He pointed out with an arched eyebrow and a smile.

“Hey I haven’t had _that_ much.” Was Bard’s predictable response, he said it every time, pulling away and frowning at Thranduil. He thought the way his brow furrowed and wrinkled with all but a pout on his lips was adorable, he tried not to think about how much he was going to miss that one day.  

“No, of course not, _meleth nín_.” Thranduil humoured with a smirk.

Bard scowled before grinning impishly and stealing the crown right from Thranduil’s head and plopping it on his own, before haphazardly skipping off around the room, literally skipping. The crown was tangled with lush green and scattered open flowers for the summer months, Thranduil thought it looked perfect against Bard’s dark brown locks.

“Oh look at me, I’m beautiful and scary king Thranduil.” Bard proclaimed, laughter tinging his voice as he stopped skipping and started walking with a rigid back and what looked like an attempted (and failed) glide like movement.

“Bard, what are you doing?” Thranduil asked frankly, even if Bard’s happiness was completely contagious to him.

“Your gratitude is misplaced, I did not come on your behalf.” Bard slurred, trying to mimic Thranduil’s voice by dipping it lower and trying (and failing) to neutralise that lilt in his voice that Thranduil loved so much.

“Maybe not, but I did stay for you.” Thranduil smiled honestly, getting a wide and lopsided beam back from Bard before he resumed his impression.

“I ride an elk so that everyone can see me and know I’m the best.” Bard actually attempted an impression of what Thranduil presumed was supposed to be riding an elk, he couldn’t help the snort that escaped him.

“An’ I talk in riddles jus’ to keep my poor bargeman good an’ confused.” Bard winked. “Also my hair is better than yours an’ you know it.”

“Bard honestly.” Thranduil smiled, shaking his head lightly.

“Mm doin’ an impression of the mysterious elfy king.” Bard grinned happily, almost tripping as he made his way back over to Thranduil.

“Oh really, I’d never have guessed.” Thranduil deadpanned, but his voice was laced with humour.

“Yeah, I am grumpy and scowly and want everyone to fear me, grrr.” Bard finished with a funny little growl that forced Thranduil’s smile wider. Bard clumsily took one of Thranduil’s hands and gave him a private, almost conspiratorial little grin. “But secretly, I’m a big softie.”

“Oh yeah?” Thranduil lightly challenged, with a raised eyebrow, even though he knew it was true wherever Bard was concerned.

“Yup. I’ve done the research, got the evidence to back it up.” Bard popped his p with a goofy but triumphant smile.

“Really, like what?”

“Like the way you’re smiling right now.” Bard said happily and surprisingly softly considering his state, but then, Bard was always so soft with Thranduil, not treating him like he was breakable, but as something impossibly precious.

Bard went to kiss Thranduil, but in his intoxication he managed to miss, landing instead on the very corner of Thranduil’s mouth and pulling another easy laugh out of him, he could feel Bard’s lips smiling against his skin.

 “ _Melin le_.” Thranduil mumbled pressing a tender kiss to Bard’s cheek.

“Sssee. Big ol’ softie.”

“Only for you.”

“Yeah. Well an’ my kids.”

“Of course.” Thranduil smiled, thinking of how Tilda threw herself into his arms and called him ada, and Bain asked him for lessons in sword play and had taught Thranduil fishing in return, and Sigrid liked to discuss books with him that they recommended to each other and traded regularly. He loved them dearly.

“And Legolas.”

“Also true.” Thranduil sighed, wishing he would visit more, but knowing that they had forever, he and Bard had no such thing, he had never noticed the passage of time in each day until now.

“And every elf in your kingdom, even the ones that annoy you.” Bard said softly.

Bard had known the day of the battle, when he could name every single one of his fallen warriors, too many losses in one day, it had been overwhelming, it was the first time he had found comfort in the embrace of Bard’s arms, sitting down next to him silently and daring to gather the cold Elvenking up to his chest, holding him tight.

Thranduil didn’t think anything in the world had ever thawed as quickly as his heart had in that moment.

“You know me all too well. You always have.” Thranduil sighed, with a smile that was somehow both sad and happy at the same time.

“S’okay, I won’t tell anyone your big secret.” Bard grinned dopily, eyes wide with alcohol, but completely focused on Thranduil nonetheless.

Thranduil didn’t reply with words, just wrapped his arms around Bard and tucked his face into his neck, warm and safe, relaxing immediately and unconsciously as Bard slung his arms around Thranduil and carded his fingers through Thranduil’s hair.

“Softie.”

 

 


	48. Bard spends the day teasing Thranduil but makes it up to him later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Ohhh prompt if you want to: really nsfw. I'd love to see Bard bringing Thranduil to the edge over and over again without granting release. Bonus points for begging Thranduil. Only Bard can give him permission to let go >:) Also combined with a request for marking kink and elven ears being super-sensitive kink.
> 
> Obviously this is rated e

 

At first, Thranduil didn’t think Bard quite realised what he was doing.

It was mid-morning of what was going to be a busy day, Thranduil was in the weekly meeting that he held with his captains and advisors – not that he ever needed advising – and as had become customary, Bard was sat to his left. It was about halfway through the meeting when Bard stood up to go and get himself a drink.

“Would you like anything?” Bard asked as he got up.

“No I am fine, _meleth nín_.” Thranduil responded.

Bard then lent down to smooth back Thranduil’ hair and press a kiss to his cheek, which was of courses all very normal, but then, Bard had dragged his hand slowly over Thranduil’s hair and by extension his ear. Thranduil had stifle a little gasp as Bard did so, just short of biting his lip.

And on his way back over Bard did it again, looking so outwardly innocent as he brushed Thranduil’s hair behind his ear, brushing his fingers tauntingly lightly over the pointed tip as he did so. Thranduil had to bite his lip to stop any little breathy noise from escaping as he focused on getting the stirring between his legs to stop, this was hardly the time.

Thranduil knew that his lover was well aware of exactly how sensitive Thranduil’s ears were, but then, Thranduil assumed it had only been an accidental brush against them, they were in a meeting for gods’ sake, and especially with the full day they had ahead of them, surely Bard wouldn’t have done it on purpose.

\-----------------

Bard was most definitely doing it on purpose. And it was driving Thranduil absolutely _mad_.

Through the day – a day completely filled with meetings as there was a visiting delegation from Rivendell and _Lothlórien_ , meaning that there was not a single moment alone – Bard teased him.

It probably looked like nothing more than affectionate gestures to everyone else in the room – because of course they were always in busy rooms so Thranduil was unable to do anything about Bard’s continual teasing.

He would get up to go do something and making it look like he was running his fingers through Thranduil’s hair when really he was tweaking his ear. He’d lean in to nuzzle at Thranduil – something Thranduil did to him often – but he’d run his teeth over the lobe of his ear. He even once managed to kiss the top of his ear, running his tongue along the point without anyone noticing. Well, without anyone noticing more than the noise falling from his mouth as he hadn’t been able to supress his gasp that time.

“Are you alright?” Bard had asked all innocently, like he didn’t know exactly what was wrong, when Bard glared at him he had smirked and continued. “Because you are looking a little flushed.” Thranduil turned stoically away from Bard and continued with the meeting’s proceedings, he heard Bard snicker quietly next to him.

He’d been off and on again hard all day, he had never been so frustrated in his entire life. And he has been alive for a _very_ long time.

So when the long day was finally over he threw the door behind them as they entered their bedchamber and slammed Bard up against it.

“What?” Bard asked, but he had a mischievous twinkle playing in his eyes, bringing his hands up to rest in the centre of Thranduil’s back – which was not where he wanted them at all.

“You know exactly what.” Thranduil growled, dipping his head down to claim Bard’s mouth in a filthy kiss, but Bard would only return it languidly, teasing Thranduil even now.

“Hmm.” Bard hummed smugly into the kiss that he insisted on keeping slow and lazy and not what Thranduil wanted right now.

“Winding me up all day. Keeping me turned on, worked up. Gods I need you right now.” Thranduil panted, pushing himself up against Bard’s front and rubbing his hard dick against him, he could feel Bard’s own hardness, but he seemed more interested in driving Thranduil mad with teasing right now.

“Little desperate are we.” Bard teased, biting onto Thranduil’s lip hard, making him moan. “I do love it when you’re this needy, practically begging for it.” He continued lowly, but keeping his hands stoically on his middle of his back.

“Come on.” Thranduil practically begged, rutting against Bard’s hip and trying to get his hands lower. Bard spun them around, forcing Thranduil up against the door, a need whimper fell from his lips.

“You know, I’ve always thought you were far better at doing as you’re told than I am.” Bard smirked as he bit down hard on Thranduil’s neck and pulled on his hair, forcing a loud moan out of Thranduil, but Bard wasn’t letting him get any friction where he wanted it.

Gods he was so turned on right now, he loved it when Bard got like this, dominate and possessively marking up Thranduil’s neck, littering his pale body with biting kisses that bruised for days. It was always a surprise when Bard did it as well, usually letting Thranduil lead and be his usual demanding self in bed, but by the Valar did he love it when Bard got like this.

Bard started stripping Thranduil out of his finery roughly, discarding it on the floor until Thranduil was completely bear. Thranduil went to unlace Bard’s trousers, but he grabbed Thranduil’s wrists in a tight grip and held them above his head, pinned to the door, making Thranduil whimper and bite his lip.

Bard resumed his assault on Thranduil’s neck, squeezing his wrists rhythmically holding on tight to his hip with the other hand – there would probably be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. He was going to be covered in marks tomorrow, the thought made whimper, bucking forwards with his hips, only to have Bard tighten his grip. 

“People are going to talk when they see my neck, I ah– .” Thranduil panted, breaking off into a loud whine as Bard bit a particularly hard one into top of his neck.

“Hmm, good. They’re all going to know who you belong to.” Bard rumbled, moving his troublesome mouth to Thranduil’s ear and dragging his lips and tongue over the shell before wrapping his lips around the particularly sensitive point and sucking.

Thranduil was panting and moaning and all but writhing, and Bard hadn’t even touched his leaking cock yet.

“Please.” Thranduil begged, desperately needing some kind of relief.

Bard hummed around his ear, sending another violent shock of pleasure straight down to his cock, but then Bard wrapped a hand around Thranduil in a loose fist. It was simultaneously the best thing Thranduil had ever felt just because it was _something_ but at the same time it wasn’t even nearly enough for any kind of relief.

Thranduil whined making Bard chuckle lowly as he stroked Thranduil with a tauntingly light touch.

“More, please.” Thranduil whimpered, thrusting his hips as much as he dared lest Bard stop completely.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Bard murmured, tightening his grip and running his hand over Thranduil’s hard dick perfectly, doing all of the things he knew Thranduil loved, squeezing around the head, flicking his wrist just-so, swiping his palm over the leaking tip. The was seriously not going to take long, he felt like he’d been on edge the whole day.

“Tell me when you’re close.” Bard rumbled into his ear, it was an order more than a request.

It only took a dozen more strokes until Thranduil was panting out a warning, assuming Bard wanted to keep the come off his clothes.

“Mm gunna come.” He panted out, and Bard squeezed him roughly around his base. Thranduil chocked off a cry as his orgasm was denied, he whimpered and tried to buck his hips, but Bard’s hands gripped his pinned wrists tighter in a warning, leaving him moaning.

“I told you to tell me when you were close, not when you were about to come.” Bard scolded, still refusing to move his hand, Thranduil moving further and further away from release again as he whimpered.

“Sorry.” Thranduil panted, just wanting Bard to move his hand again, but knowing how sensational the release would be if he let Bard deny him and take him to the edge over and over.

Bard started playing lightly with his balls, not enough to push him anywhere near the edge, but still making him whimper.

“Are you going to come if I touch you again?” Bard murmured into Thranduil’s ear, Thranduil shook his head, biting at his lip. “Good.” Bard rumbled, making Thranduil’s cock jump.

Bard brought him back to the edge, pulling moans and gasps out of Thranduil as he nibbled on his earlobe and stoked him.

“I’m close I– ” Thranduil chocked off another warning as Bard stilled his hand completely, crying out in frustration and letting his head fall back against the door with a  thump.

“Very good.” Bard praised, settling into a deep kiss, Thranduil doing his best to return it as his orgasm dropped away again, preening at the praise.

“Stay.” Bard ordered, voice low and rough. Thranduil didn’t move a muscle as Bard released him and went to the cupboard where they kept the oil, before walking back over tauntingly slowly with it.  “Turn around.”

Thranduil didn’t need to be told twice, turning quickly and spreading his legs easily, getting a please sound from Bard. Thranduil felt him run a hand over his ass, kneading at the pale globes before bringing one hand down in a firm _smack_ against it. Thranduil jerked forward, panting as Bard soothed over the flesh before doing it a few more times.

Thranduil was panting, leaning against the door and pushing his ass back towards Bard, begging with his body for the next perfect sting, but it did not come. Instead Bard plastered himself along Thranduil’s back, letting him feel his still clothed erection rubbing between his cheeks and bit down on Thranduil’s shoulder, making him whimper.

Thranduil heard the stopper pulled from the bottle and it wasn’t long before Bard pressed in one finger without warning in one smooth motion. Thranduil cried out and pushed his hips back on Bard’s finger, desperately trying to take him deeper somehow. Bard used his clever finger to find that spot that drove Thranduil mad, Thranduil making a strangled cry as Bard brushed over it.

He could practically feel Bard’s smirk at the noise, and then there was a second finger pushing at his entrance, gliding in to join the first, Thranduil beginning to feel the delicious stretch of his inner muscles. Bard only stretched him lightly before he pressed a third finger in, making sure the stretch burned just the way Thranduil loved, just the right kind of painful, but always unerringly sure not to hurt him or push him too far.

Thranduil whimpered and rocked his hips back, trying to fuck himself down on Bard’s fingers, but Bard held him still with his other hand, forcing him against the door harder. He was moaning loudly and almost non-stop as Bard alternated between hitting his prostate dead on and stroking across it lightly pushing him back towards the edge.

He didn’t even need Thranduil to warn him when he was about to come, which was good as Thranduil was an incoherent mess by now who couldn’t string words together if he tried, whenever he was cresting again Bard would stop hitting that little bundle of nerves, letting him drop slowly back down before forcing him back again.

Thranduil lost count, along with the ability to think beyond sensation at all, of how many times he had been brought to the edge only to be denied at the final moment when he felt Bard’s fingers pulling from his loose hole and turning him back around.

“You okay?” Bard checked, pressing kisses on Thranduil jaw. Thranduil knew his face was slack, eye’s closed, sweaty and breathing heavily, he was so much more than okay.

“Mmm.” Thranduil managed, pretty heroically he though, even nodding his head a couple of times.

“Good. Open your eyes.” Bard instructed and Thranduil forced them open, revealing a very please looking Bard, it made him smile. He was both wound tight from denial and completely loose from pleasure.

Bard smiled back at him and kissed his lips softly, completely at odds with the way he reached around and hoisted Thranduil up, shoving Thranduil back against the door, hands back to kneading at his ass and teasing over his hole. Thranduil wrapped his legs around Bard’s waist and tugged him in even harder.

Thranduil rested his arms around Bard’s neck and shoulders, as Bard somehow managed get his trousers unlaced while still holding Thranduil up, he was always surprised when Bard reminded him of how strong he really was, usually being so understated about everything.

Thranduil moaned long and low as Bard’s thick cock breached him slowly, Bard dragging the stretch out for as long as he could until he was pressed up against Thranduil’s ass. Thranduil pushed his heels into Bard’s back, urging him to start moving and Bard immediately drew back and snapped his hips back forward, forcing Thranduil against the wall, his fingers digging into the meat of his ass.

Bard was managing to hit his sweet spot on every and Thranduil thought that he was finally going to be allowed to come but just as he was gasping out about to finally finish Bard pulled out without warning leaving him crying out on the edge once more, his balls were throbbing along with his cock, and he was pretty sure he was mumbling out incoherent begs as bard carried him across the room and tossed him down on the bed.

Thranduil was too gone to be able to do much other than feel at this point, so he lay there both limp and tightly wound, gasping out as Bard hooked his long legs over his shoulders and thrust back in and immediately setting up a punishing rhythm, pounding into Thranduil, flooding him with so much sensation it was almost painful.

Bard bent Thranduil almost completely in half as he lent down to take one of Thranduil’s peaked, red nipples into his mouth and biting at it, rolling the nub over in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, leaving Thranduil writhing with shots and jolt of pleasure as Bard thrust and bit, sending him racing to the edge once more.

Bard moved his mouth, sucking his way back up Thranduil’s abused neck before nibbling on his ear lobe, leaving Thranduil practically sobbing with all the sensations.

“You’re so good.” Bard purred, hot breath ghosting across Thranduil’s ear. “You can let go now, you can come. Go on, come for me.”

A moan ripped its way out of Thranduil throat and Bard nailed his protest and pushed him crashing over the edge. The feeling of his orgasm completely overtaking him, leaving his crying out silently and Bard worked him through it until he was whimpering with over-sensitivity. Bard was gasping above him at the clench of Thranduil’s muscles around him. He pulled out of Thranduil and finished himself off in two harsh strokes, spilling himself in thick ropes over Thranduil’s chest.

Thranduil could feel Bard collapse next to his completely limp and spent body, breathing almost as heavily as Thranduil was. Thranduil felt Bard’s fingers trailing over his stomach, mixing their come together and rubbing it into Thranduil’s skin, Bard brought two come covered fingers up to Thranduil mouth. Thranduil sucked them in without even thinking swirling his tongue around Bard’s fingers, dick giving a valiant twitch as he tasted them both, but he was utterly spent and falling asleep with Bard’s fingers resting against his tongue.

He could feel Bard leave the bed and wipe him down gently before pulling the covers back and slipping in behind, gathering up Thranduil’s sated and relaxed body to his firm chest. Both of them quickly falling into sleep.

 

The next day Bard’s eyes kept catching on the dark marks littering Thranduil’s neck, looking at them hungrily. Thranduil let his long fingers stroke across the seemingly absentmindedly and saw the way Bard bit his lip.

Thranduil smirked, it was his turn to tease Bard. 


	49. Thranduil glamours himself to make his frequent visits more discreet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Saw this prompt the other day... About Thranduil glamouring himself as a human to see Bard, in order for them to be less obvious about their relationship when they are in Dale. I kinda dig the idea of Thrandy being able to look like "normal" Lee Pace in front of Bard.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“Something is troubling you, _meleth nín_.” Came Thranduil’s voice.

Bard looked over to where Thranduil was lying to the left of him stretched out and completely relaxed, sheets pooling on his lower back, head resting in his arms, looking at Bard. Even his glamour was down he was so very at ease. The sight was enough to overrule any of his troubles.

“Nothing.” Bard smiled, stroking a hand tenderly over Thranduil’s silky hair, tucking it behind his ear the way he knew Thranduil preferred. He ran his finger affectionately around the line of Thranduil’s jaw before leaning down a pressing a kiss to his cheek. Thranduil sighed and shut his eyes, sinking further into the mattress.

“It is clearly not nothing, your face was creased with worry only moments ago. I would remove that expression forever, have you never needing to worry about anything.” Thranduil replied easily, it was said with such simple honesty that Bard could feel his heart swell.

“I know I should not let it concern me, but I worry about what the people of Dale will do if they found out about us. They are not as accepting as elves.” Bard sighed. “And you, my love, are rather eye-catching. Soon people will begin to wonder why the beautiful Elvenking pays me so many visits.”

“I did not realise. I could try to be more discreet about my visits?” Thranduil suggested. Bard smiled fondly, running his hands through the silvery blonde hair that you would have to be blind to miss, and thinking of the beautiful gowns that he wore and the elk he rode and how he would rather everyone in Dale knew than have Thranduil come to his less often.

“Know that I would not have you so much as lessen your visits, no matter what the people of Dale might say. I would have you visit more before I let you visit me less.” Bard told him, lying back down, draping a hand over him and drawing little circles on his smooth and strong back.

“But it still worries you.” Thranduil pushed, never liking Bard to be anything other than completely happy and carefree, it was a feeling which was shared by Bard, often removing his crown and kissing away the creases of worry in Thranduil’s brow after a difficult day.

“Not nearly as much as the thought of you not being here with me whenever possible.” Bard replied simply, dropping a kiss to the end of Thranduil’s nose and pulling the covers back up around them, they could lay in for a little longer.

And that was all that was said on the matter.

 

Four days later, there was a knock on Bard’s door, he was expecting Thranduil, so when he saw short brown hair he sagged a little.

Then he did the biggest double take of his entire life.

Bard’s mouth fell open in shock which was met with a shy smile from Thranduil, because it _was_ Thranduil.

He had glamoured himself to appear with short, brown hair, and slightly less pale skin, muting the elven glow of it. He was wearing plain clothes, they weren’t even particularly elven, he could almost pass for either looking like this. And to complete the image, there was a normal horse standing outside.

But despite the hair and the clothes, there were still thick eyebrows and sharp cheekbones, ice-blue eyes and a strong jawline. It was still Thranduil, the expression was quintessentially his as was the little twinkle in his eye.

“What do you think?” Thranduil asked with a little smile.

“I love you.” Bard laughed breathily, grabbing Thranduil’s pain shirt and dragging him in, slamming the door behind him and kissing him fiercely against it.

Thranduil smiled into the kiss, and Bard brought his hands up to tangle in the locks which were so much shorter than usual, but just as soft and silky.

“I take it you approve of my solution then.” Thranduil almost laughed into Bard’s deep kisses that he was returning with just as much passion, arms coming round to circle Bard’s waist and pull him closer.

“God I love you so much.” Was apparently the only thing Bard had to say between kisses, too many emotions flooding him at the thoughtfulness and love in this one simple gesture.

“And I you, _melinden_.” Thranduil murmured.

Thranduil let Bard slip his tongue past his plush lips, running it along Thranduil’s tongue before pulling back and nibbling on his lower lip, both of them grinning into the kiss.

Bad lost track of how long they had been kissing for, losing himself in Thranduil as he had so many times before, as he planned to do so many more times in the future.

“Da!” Came the shocked voices of his daughters from behind him.

Bard broke off the kiss and detangled his hands from Thranduil’s hair (admittedly that was far easier than usual) and turned to his daughters.

“Yes darlin’?” Bard asked a little confused. His children all knew about his relationship with the Elvenking, they had in fact taken to each other so well it left Bard with smiles he could not shake. Few sights would be as precious to him as Thranduil braiding Tilda’s hair, or teaching Sigrid Sindarin, or helping Bain with his swordcraft.

And it was hardly the first time they had been caught kissing, the girls had never been bothered before, but the looked absolutely outraged right now, literally glaring at Bard, it was very confusing.

“Oh da how could you!” Tilda cried, looking very upset about something, but Bard could not fathom what.

“I don’t believe it. What’s happening?” Sigrid demanded almost angrily – well as angry as Sigrid ever got, she was such a calm tempered person.

“What? What have I done?” Bard asked confused and more than a little confused by the way his children were looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and anger.

“How could you betray ada like that?” Tilda all but shouted at him, and, what?

“I can’t believe you would do something like this da, it’s not like you. What’s happened?” Sigrid asked almost desperately.

And what were they even talking about, Bard would _never_ betray Thranduil.

“What’re you even – _oh_!” Bard broke off with a laugh when he realised.

“There is nothing funny about this da.” Sigrid scolded.

“Well, if you would take a closer look I’m sure you’ll see that there is.” Bard smiled. “Thran?”

Thranduil let the glamour fade, long silver hair cascading its way past his shoulders, skin lightening and taking on the glow it usually had, he smiled at the girls easily.

“We did not mean to alarm you. We were merely trying to make it less obvious to the people of Dale that I visit rather too frequently for any official business.”

“Oh, sorry.” Sigrid blushed sheepishly, Bard just grinned at her while Thranduil gave her a soft smile.

“Ada!” Tilda shouted at the same time, practically throwing herself into Thranduil’s arms, he caught her easily as he always did.

“Hello, _pen-neth_ , are you well?” Thranduil asked, placing an affectionate kiss on her cheek as he greeted her.

“Yes. Sigrid showed me how to bake a lemon cake today, do you want some?” She asked excitedly.

“I very much would.” Thranduil smiled, carrying her off towards the kitchen, chattering with her easily.

“I didn’t think you would ever do that. But it looked– ” Sigrid explained, embarrassed.

“Its okay darlin’, it did look pretty damming.” Bard reassured.

“Yeah, but I know you would never. You love him far too much.” She smiled, as they headed to join Tilda and Thranduil in the kitchen, where he was sampling some of Tilda’s cake as she waited tensely for his verdict.

“Perfect.” Thranduil smiled after chewing on it contemplatively for a while, making Tilda beam.

“Impossible.” Bard finally answered Sigrid.

There was no amount of love that could ever be too much.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by [froggy_freek](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3273359) whois amazing and spoils me


	50. The tale of the Dragonslayer and the Elvenking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> what if instead of fading due to grief, elves turn to stone. in the middle of dale there’s a statue of the long disappeared elvenking, and no one looks at it because of the look of sheer loss and pain on his face. little do they know that bard died there decades ago, and the statue isn’t a statue.
> 
> Rated: G

 

There was a fairystory, a folktale, popular among the people of Dale. They told it to travellers and to their children and grandchildren. They all knew the story of the statue.

Once upon a time, many years ago, there used to be a huge Elven kingdom in the forests of Mirkwood, ruled over by a cold and beautiful king, though his name has been lost to time. He defended his own lands and people ferociously, but he cared little for the suffering of others; “Other lands are not my concern.” The king would say, dismissing all who came before him.

All but one.

The fabled Dragonslayer, a simple bargeman who took down Smaug the Terrible with only one arrow, who re-founded Dale and saved their ancestors in ages past.

He was the one who thawed the heart of the cold Elvenking.   

Dale prospered under the king consorts, flourishing and just as their love did. But they say elves were magical creatures, they lived forever and didn’t age. No one remembers what happened to the elves, some say they all died defending Middle Earth from the power of the ring, some say they became mortal when the age of men began, some say they left for a place called Valinor.

There is a different story about the cold elven king.

Forced to watch as his love faded before him, unable to do anything to stop or even slow the harsh passage of time, each day chipping away at his love. A grey hair. A wrinkle. A slower step. A weaker voice. A frailer heart. It tortured the Elvenking as he was forced to watch, he could not bear it.

He searched for a cure even though mortality was not a curable ailment. He scowered the highs and lows of the world for a way to cheat death, to stop time and save his beloved. But he could not find anything, for there was nothing.

It was in the winter of the Dragonslayer’s life, when the Elvenking heard of a spell, a plant, a wizard, what exactly it was has been lost, but it was something that he was told could bring immortality and save his love, his heart.

So the Elvenking left immediately racing across the lands renewed with hope as he found what he was promised would stop the Dragonslayer from meeting his inevitable end.

But the fates are cruel just like the winter.

And the Dragonslayer was not as strong as he once had been.

The winter took him two days before the Elvenking reached home, the hope he carried with him turned to ash as the stricken daughter of the Dragonslayer appeared from the house, rushing down to her second father seeking some comfort.

But he had none to give.

He had nothing left to give anyone.

He could not go the last few meters up the steps and into the house, could not bear to see the cold corpse of the one he loved. He threw the remedy he carried aside, it had not given him life, it had taken the precious few days they had left away from him, chasing after fables and shadows of hope instead of being where he belonged. He did not belong anywhere anymore.

He had not been there though he had promised the Dragonslayer he would be, that he would not toil away their last moments.

But time was an unforgiving mistress, and he had run out.

He dropped to the ground in the courtyard in front of the house, meters from the steps into the house he had called a home. But home was never a place.

Home had been the colour of the Dragonslayer’s eyes. The sound of his voice. The music of his laughter. The feel of his kiss. The comforting squeeze of his hand.   

His home had died with the final tendril breath from his lover’s lips.

They say that in that moment the Elvenking’s heart turned to stone. That no matter how his Dragonslayer’s children would beg him and plead and cry to him, but no matter what they said he did not move, did not speak.

For days the Elvenking did not move, everything down to the muscles in his face seeming to freeze, his expression of grief haunting all who saw it. All his glamours and graces fallen away leaving such stark sorrow across his features that no one could endure to look at him.

It was not the scars of a burn that haunted those who saw him there, but ones of a different kind of torment entirely.

Then one day, in place of the Elvenking was a stone statue sculpted, they say, in the exact way he had sat. The expression and pose eerily identical to the one that had shattered across his face, plaguing the thoughts of those who saw it. Those who look upon it, even today, are overwhelmed with the need to see and be held by a loved one.

No one knew where the statue had come from or where the Elvenking had finally moved on to. The royal family of Dale refused to speak of it, though they would often be found weeping against the statue, kneeling with it and holding on, arms slung around its cold stone neck, face buried in the rock, as though it were really their second father. Cruel for them to have lost two fathers so quickly.

There was a rumour that the Elvenking had died from heartbreak, fading into dust. That he had wandered back into his woods and allowed the monsters that dwelt there to take him.

But no one really knew. Not where he’d gone or where the statue came from.

Others spoke of a man who looked like the Elvenking, blonde and beautiful. Lamenting at its feet, only arriving years after the statue appeared, as if he had not known, but visiting it like a grave nonetheless, until one day he left a plant at its feet. And then he did not visit anymore.

The plant had grown and coiled around the cold stone, but it had turned dark and cold, the statue infecting it with the hopelessness that permeated all the air around it, as if the statue could not carry the burden of sadness it held in its carvings.

“Do not look too long at the statue of the Elvenking. For sorrow will choke your lungs and suffocate your heart.”

This was the story the people of Dale told of the statue in the courtyard.

Little did they know that it was not a statue at all, but the grieving spirit of the Elvenking.

Even frozen and trapped in his sorrow the Elvenking had felt his daughter’s tears, heard his sons laments.  But he would not move. He could not.

He was the cold Elvenking once again.

He was stone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [LOOK AT THE AMAZING ART AMELIA DID FOR ME](http://curmudgeony.tumblr.com/post/109879100597/grieve-for-thy-dead-in-silence-like-to-death-most)


	51. Thranduil is injured on the road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Was wondering if you could maybe write a fic where Thranduil receives a big injury protecting Bard & he has to care for him? Maybe they were on some diplomatic journey together & on their way they get attacked by orcs or w/e, and Bard is panicking because Thrandy looks like he's dying and he just might if he doesn't do something, QUICK (kingsfoil to the rescue!)
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

They should never have been out on the road alone. They had both all but laughed off the idea of needing an escort, they had done the trip so many times before, the road was not one known for being perilous and it was hardly a long journey, just two weeks by the speed they ride.

After all, they were the deadly Elvenking and the Dragonslayer. They would be fine.

Well now they were still two days from Rivendell, unable to ride, and Thranduil was not remotely fine.

They had been ambushed by a stray orc pack, it caught them off guard but it was not a large force and together they were good enough to take out the pack, they knew each other so well that they were perfectly in sync.

Well, almost perfectly, or was it too perfectly? Bard didn’t know.

It had happened so fast that Bard wasn’t even able to register what had happened until it was too late.

There hadn’t been many orcs left standing, maybe Bard had been getting complacent, maybe it was his fault. He couldn’t remember, right now it hardly mattered. As Bard had taken down the last two orcs on his side, he had heard a shout from Thranduil and then there was something slumping against his back.

It was Thranduil with an arrow shot into his stomach.

The final orc, the one who had been up on the verges and loosed the arrow was already falling, one of Thranduil’s knives thrown unerringly into its heart.

Instinct alone had Bard catch Thranduil as he fell backwards, Bard quickly figuring out what had happened. It wasn’t hard to realise that that arrow would be in Bard’s back right now if Thranduil hadn’t gotten in the way.

 _Why_ had he gotten in the way?!

It was a stupid question, Bard knew exactly why because he would have done the exact same thing had their positions been reversed.

The arrow had found a chink in Thranduil’s light riding armour, whether by chance or skill Bard did not know nor did he care. All that mattered was the arrow protruding from his lover’s stomach, dark, sickly blood weeping out around the wound.

“Thran?” Bard’s voice cracked as he lowered Thranduil to the floor, still computing everything that had happened. Reconciling the arrow in his stood tauntingly in his stomach and how untouchable he had thought Thranduil in battle.

Even the elves are mortal in some ways.

“Thran? Thran! What do I do?” Bard cried, he would feel the panic in his voice just as he could feel it rattling at his muscles.

“Rivendell.” Thranduil replied, voice strained and laced with pain, his glamour had already fallen away, no strength to waste holding it up. But Bard knew the horses were dead too. He had seen it happen, they would’ve been able to walk the remaining distance uninjured.

But now Thranduil didn’t have time, nor could he even walk.

“The horses are dead. I don’t know– I don’t know how– we– ” Bard sentences left unfinished as he felt bile in his throat, terror suffocating his lungs.

“Shhh, _melinden_ , shelter then.” Thranduil comforted him, smooth palm against Bard’s cheek. And wasn’t it ridiculous that Thranduil was the one comforting him, despite the pain that etched through his voice.

Bard scooped him up in his arms as gently as he could and carried him carefully over to some shallow caves, only inlets really, but it was the only shelter that was close. He hurried back to the corpse strew path and took the bags from the horses. They had not brought much with them, but it could last them a few days, a week if Bard only ate when absolutely necessary.

He did not know what they would do when the week was up. He did not know if Thranduil would last the week, it had not looked like a normal wound. Bard’s mind was dragged back to the dwarf, Kili, mogul shaft they had said.

It did not bear thinking about.

He removed Thranduil’s armour carefully, making him as comfortable as possible with the bed rolls they had brought with them for the trip. He snapped the arrow in half, not wanting to remove it for fear Thranduil would bleed out, but he did not know it that was making the poisoning worse.

Bard had no idea what to do.

Only a day had passed and Thranduil’s condition had worsened startlingly. His skin was clammy and the paleness of it was now unhealthy looking in a way it never was at all. The colour had drained from his usually red lips and his voice was thin and rasping.

He felt so helpless.

“What can I do? There has to be something.” Bard cried, squeezing Thranduil’s hand probably too tightly for it to be comfortable, but still Thranduil gripped back as tightly as his strength would allow.

“Kingsfoil. Can you try to find some kingsfoil?” Thranduil’s horse voice had managed.

Bard nodded, he knew the plant, it was a weed really. There would probably be some up and over the hill they had come across, down in the undergrowth. He kissed Thranduil hard before he left, promising to be back soon.

It hadn’t been hard to find, a small mercy as he raced back to Thranduil’s side. He did as Thranduil’s faint voice instructed mashing it up and removing the arrow, spreading the paste onto a bandage made from his own tunic and wrapping in tightly around Thranduil’s middle.

Bard checked and changed the dressing very half a day or so, and for a few days Thranduil seemed to improve, complexion regaining some of its old colour.

But Bard did not have the magic of the elves and he could not use the weed to its full potential.

It was only delaying the spread of the poison.

No matter how often Bard reapplied it, Thranduil would not get better, slowly deteriorating right in front of Bard’s eyes as the week wore on.

Bard hunted for food so that Thranduil did not have to go at all hungry, needing him to keep his strength. What little of it he had left.

But it had been over a week. And Thranduil’s breaths were coming in alarming, deathly rattles, each one threatening to be the last.

 Bard was holding him against his chest, rocking him slowly, telling him it was going to be all right, that he’d get better, even though they both knew that wasn’t true.

“I am relieved. I spent so long dreading the day I would have to watch you die. Perhaps it is selfish, I do not want to die, but I am relived I will never have to lose you.” Thranduil spoke through strangled, hard breaths.

“Gods don’t day that. I cannot lose you.” Bard held him tighter, they had not once spoken of the fate which they faced as lovers. This might not have been what they expected. But there was still no happy ending for them.

There never was.

They sat for another twenty minutes until Thranduil spoke again.

“There is someone outside.” He warned despite the strain on his voice, hearing still better than Bard’s, even this close to death.

Bard slipped out from behind Thranduil, gently laying him back, before grabbing his sword to go and peer out from their shelter, he had to know if they were in danger.

Well, more than they already were. It almost didn’t matter.

Accept it did, because on horseback, looking anxiously down at the copious bodies for orcs were elves, led by none other than Elrond himself.

“My lord Elrond.” Bard shouted, startling Elrond no doubt because he sounded like a crazed maniac as he charged towards him.

“King Bard. What has happened, we expected you days ago, you have never before been late so we came looking.”

“We need your help, Thranduil. He is dying.” Bard yelled franticly.

Elrond rushed with him round into their shelter, his breath hitching when he saw the state of Thranduil.

What if he was too far gone?

Elrond started barking orders in elvish, sending his company racing off, snatching up the last of the kingsfoil Bard had collected and starting an incantation. Bard wasn’t even able to marvel in the wonder of elven healing, he was too busy clinging onto his love.

 

It was almost two weeks later in Rivendell when Bard felt the hand he was clinging to squeeze back.

“Thran?” Bard gasped, voice scratchy and raw form crying.

“I am here.” Came a weak but completely alive voice.

A sob loosed itself from Bard’s throat as he drew himself up and buried his face in Thranduil’s neck, tears wetting his pale skin. Thranduil’s arms came up and pulled Bard down with the little force he could muster, bringing him to rest next to him on the bed, making it easier to hold on to each other.

“Gods I thought we were too late. Never do that again. Please I beg of you. Promise me.” Bard cried, white knuckle grip on Thranduil’s bed clothes. He knew he was being selfish as he could make no such promises himself.

“Would it have been worth it?” Came Thranduil’s broken reply. “Would what we have had been worth the pain?”

“Yes. Yes. Know that I would not give up a second of the time we had together, not to spare me all the pain in this world. You are worth it to me, you are worth everything.”

Thranduil nodded into their embrace in response, holding onto each other so tight they would probably leave bruises.

 

There were still no happy endings for them.

There never was.

But by the Valar, they made it sure it was worth it.

 

 


	52. Bard accidentally kisses Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Okay but what if one day Thranduil and some of his elves are visiting Dale on Royal business and they stay the night and in the morning they all eat breakfast together and Bard is called away to urgent business so he kisses his children on the cheek and instead of stopping at Tilda he ends up kissing Thranduil’s cheek as well, but he doesn’t realise until he’s halfway across the courtyard and then he just stops and touches his lips for a second before realising exactly what he’s done. Meanwhile everyone in the breakfast hall is staring at Thranduil who is sitting frozen with a hand just touching his cheek, which is pink from him blushing
> 
> Rated: G

 

Over the past six months, the Elvenking had become a fairly frequent presence while they rebuilt Dale. Bard knew they could not have done it without him, they would have starved or frozen over the winter had Thranduil not sent them aid.

But for some reason he seemed inclined to help them, even though Bard could tell by the whispers and looks between the elves he brought with him, that this was not normal for their king. But Bard would not look a gift horse in the mouth, even an incredibly attractive one, and took the relief readily.

He would be lying if he claimed that his feelings towards Thranduil hadn’t developed into something more than friendly. But he realised that for the impossibility it was and so contented himself with the close friendship that had grown between them, it would after all only benefit Dale and allow him to see his friend often.

I was really very surprising to Bard, how often Thranduil came to visit, (not that he minded one bit). But he supposed there was a lot to be done as far as the two kingdoms went, even if the reasons for the visit were becoming suspiciously weak.

Bard almost considered telling Thranduil that it was fine if he just wanted to come and visit, especially as Bard knew that he did not seem to have any other friends. But he supposed that if Thranduil thought he needed excused then he would let him make up his excuses, even if Bard wasn’t entirely sure why he thought that he needed them.

So Thranduil was in Dale, staying in the newly build royal rooms, it really wasn’t a palace because Bard had absolutely refused to have one built, the idea of him living in such a place was laughable to him. Instead it was really just a nice house with rooms for him and his children and one spare, they had survived this long without staff and they would continue to. Thranduil stayed separately from his entourage as they could not all be roomed, and Thranduil told them that he was happy to stay alone with Bard and his family as it was customary to stay with the hosting king.

Which is why they were all sat around the table eating breakfast as if they were one little family.

And _gods_ did it feel like they were as well.

Or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

Either way Bard’s heart squeezed as Thranduil listened to Tilda’s chatter, reaching over the table to where she could not to pass her the jam, he advised Bain on the best handle and grip for his new sword and looked through Sigrid’s books on healing to tell her what was of use and what was merely superstition.

Bard could not help the soft smile that settled on his lips as they ate.

So when Bard when Percy came in to tell him of some reasonably urgent business that required his attention Bard went into a kind of autopilot.

He was halfway across the courtyard before he realised that after giving his children kisses on the cheek, he had done exactly the same to Thranduil.

Bard ghosted his fingers across his lips, they suddenly seemed to tingle, he wished he had taken note of what his alabaster skin had felt like beneath his lips.

 

Back in the little dining room there was a light blush dusting Thranduil’s cheeks to match the warm smile curving at lips as his fingers touched reverently where Bard’s lips had.

The children were just grinning.


	53. Barduil does snapchat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> ok but thranduil and bard snapchat each other daily and one week thranduil has to go out of town and so one day during the week hes sitting in his hotel room bored and missing bard and he cant talk to him bc bard is working so thrandy decides to be cheeky and send bard snaps of himself getting nude and masturbating and how he wishes bard was there  
> and of course bard finds a spare moment at work to check his phone and gets all flustered when he checks his snapchat 
> 
> Rated: M

 

Thranduil was a big fan of snapchat, a lot of people found that surprising, but then he supposed, there was only one person he actually sent snaps too because he was the only person he wanted to share parts of his day with.

But still, his did send Bard quite a lot really. But he was the boss and could do what he wanted, so if he decided that the view was pretty and wanted Bard to see it too, he’d take out his phone and send a snap.

Bard was unfortunately not the boss where he worked, so he couldn’t always respond, but it made Thranduil smile when he saw the little arrow go white, knowing Bard had found a sneaky second to look. And occasionally Bard would manage to snap him back – always blurry and with only half his face in it because his boyfriend was a techno-idiot – but the funny expressions Bard was trying to snap always made Thranduil laugh, even if he was supposed to be in a meeting. 

If anything the confusion at seeing the notorious harsh CEO of Mirkwood Industries laugh and smile at his phone only scared people more. He scared people really did get things done faster.

But unfortunately there were also downsides to being the boss, such as absolutely having to go away for a week to some stupid conference halfway across the country. He couldn’t even make Bard take the week off and come with him because of the kids (not that he would change a damn thing about his family) but still, he was going to miss them all far too much.

It had been a particularly boring day at the conference, which he’d already been at for four days, and there were three more until he could go home. He missed the kids, he missed Bard, he missed home.  

He was also _really_ horny.

Honestly how could he be expected to go from getting fucking through the mattress every night (sometimes multiple times!) so nothing but his hand for an entire week – okay it had only been four days so far, but the point is it would be a week.

But as he was snapping Bard a picture of his face, with the caption ‘soo bored, miss you’, he could hardly be blamed if he suddenly got an idea thinking about the other things he could take pictures of.

He didn’t really take the time to consider timezones as he snapped and sent pictures of him taking off his clothes, settling into bed, getting a hand around himself, one particularly well framed one of his ass (but only one because it wasn’t exactly easy to take), some more of him stroking himself, a few of his face as he knew how much Bard like to see him blissed out, one absolutely perfectly times money shot, one of him licking come off his fingers and finally one of him biting his lip with the caption ‘I really miss you’.

Thranduil smirked to himself as he cleaned up, thrumming with mischief as be began to think about what else he might be able to snap…

He was slipping into bed when his phone started ringing, he snatched it up with a grin, hoping for some epic phone sex.

“I was in a meeting.” Came Bard’s gruff voice.

Oh yeah, timezones, Thranduil thought with a snicker. It probably meant that Bard was making this call from the bathroom, escaping the conference room as soon as he was caught off guard by the snaps.

“Is that the only reason you’re calling? To tell me off?” Thranduil pouted, but his voice was all cheekiness, even to his own ears.

“You love it when I tell you off. And no actually.” Bard responded, fist playful, then more business-like.

“Oh?”

“Where is the damn screenshot button?”

Thranduil almost fell off the bed laughing.

 


	54. Werewolf Bard au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Um um um could you maybe if you're not too busy and it interests you write a barduil au thing where bard is a werewolf like everything else is almost the same but you have bard struggling to hide his condition and take care of his little bardlings and then he meets Thranduil like maybe the elvenking has been getting reports of a strange beast being sighted by patrols on the edges of the forest some nights and idk how it would work but basically I want to see barduil with werebard and thranduil complaining that he eternally smells like wet dog like seriously they will never get the smell out if his bedsheets like ever
> 
> Rated: G

 

There were a lot of reasons Bard had taken the job as Bargeman to transport the barrels from the Woodland Realm, the money wasn’t terrible, it was a change of scenery, it got him away from the eyes of the master, it allowed him a little freedom. And they were all perfectly good reasons.

But they weren’t the main one.

Only he and his children knew the real reason. That being that with the freedom the barge allowed, Bard as able to sail over to the woods one night each month, and make sure that he wasn’t in the closer quarters of Laketown when the moon hit.

It wasn’t that Bard thought he would hurt anyone, he had lived with this curse his whole life, he knew how to control himself. But no matter how much he focused, he could not stop himself from slipping into the shape of the wolf. He’d be shot on sight if he was seen (not that many other than himself had the skill with a bow to catch him when he was wolf) but it was too great a risk. If he were killed his secret would be out, his children would be in danger. No, it was far too much of a risk.

Instead on each full moon he would take the barge out in the evening and let the wolf have the run of the woods before returning, exhausted, in the morning.

There were all sorts of rumours about what he did out there those nights, to warrant coming home so tired in the morning; but the most popular one was that he was having an affair with an elf. Which while ridiculous, he was happy to let them believe as that rumour was, after all, fairly harmless whereas the truth was not. 

But it was not easy, it was already hard enough to provide for three children alone, and the Master’s rules around when and why people could sail from the town were getting stricter. He fear that soon he would not be able to take the barge when he pleased, he did not know what he would do if the time ever came.

But the first problem Bard faced, was that he had failed to consider exactly how well the elves, and especially their king knew their forest.

Nothing could go undetected in king Thranduil’s lands for long, not man or beast, and certainly not both.

But Bard had assumed that in the vast lands of the woods, among so many different creatures, he would go unnoticed.

And if his instincts were telling him he was being watched these last few moons, then well, he’s always been good at ignoring the wolf.

It was an autumn moon, Bard had spent the night as the wolf, charging through the trees and undergrowth, letting the wolf loose as he did every month, letting it run, making it easier to bite back the urge until the next moon came around.

And somewhere in the night, as he always did, Bard collapsed into sleep, to wake up a few hours later in the morning sun where he could head back to the barge and where he had deposited his clothes, and travel home.

But this day, when he woke in the early light, he knew he was not alone before he even opened his eyes. But it was hard to take up any kind of defence when you’re naked as the day you’re born, completely unarmed, in the middle of a forest.

So instead Bard just locked eyes with the tall, beautiful elf looking at him. He had of course see elves before, occasionally one of them would meet him by the barrels to tell him of any scheduling changes for the next consignment of barrels. But this elf was something entirely.

Fairer than any maiden Bard had seen, yet he stood strong and Bard did not doubt his deadliness. He was both smooth and sharp, elegant and tough, beautiful and dangerous.

They stared at each other, both of them challenging. Bard refusing to back down even though he was terrified. Did he know about his secret? Or was he just wondering why there was a naked man asleep in the forest? Who was he anyway, and why was he here? _Did he know?_

“Fascinating.” The elf said eventually, his voice was deep and rich and it flowed like music even though he had only said one word.

“What is?” bard replied cautiously, even though he knew what the elf must be talking about, but then, why wasn’t he doing anything?

“Oh I think you know what. I have never before seen a thing like it. And here I thought that nothing on this earth could surprise me anymore, yet here you are.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” What Bard really rather pointless reply, it got a raised eyebrow from the elf.

“Really? Well I shall state it plainly then.” The elf responded sarcastically. “I am referring to the fact that once a month – on a full moon I might add – you come into my forest and turn into a wolf.”

“Why aren’t you running? Or indeed shooting me.” Bard commented, unmoving from where he sat on the forest floor.

“Why on earth would I do that?” The elf asked incredulously, as if it was the most stupid question in the world, offended by its mere suggestion, even though to Bard it seemed like the logical thing to do if you encountered someone, some _thing_ , like him.

“Well, because…” Bard trailed off, still reluctant to acknowledge what he was. He didn’t even know what he was.

“Honestly do you know how long it had been since something caught my attention. Since I found something remotely interesting, and you, are _fascinating_.” The elf practically leered from where he leant against a tree.

“You’re not scared?” Bard commented, used to the race of men who were often scared of that which they did not understand. But that got a laugh out of the elf, loud and full, clearly finding the notion utterly ridiculous.

“I am fairly sure I could defend myself again you. You are but one man.” Thranduil pointed out.

“I am hardly a man. I am a monster.” Bard replied quietly, dipping his head just slightly in shame. But it was true, what else other than a monster was forced into the form of a wolf once a month, but could feel it always, instinctual and base, only his own self-control stood between the wolf taking over.

“I have watched you come here for the past five moons, and I have never seen you harm a single living thing. Not bird or rabbit nor deer or fox. If you are supposed to be a monster then I am thoroughly disappointed.” Came the elf’s response, tone softer than before. It made Bard feel vulnerable all of a sudden and conscious of the fact that he was completely naked.

Bard shifted under the elf’s unwavering gaze, trying to cover himself a least a little with his hands. He looked back at the elf and blushed as he saw him running his eyes appreciatively over Bard’s body.

“My clothes– ” Bard said awkwardly, there were probably about a ten minute walk from here, that usually didn’t matter because he had never had company before.

“Oh I don’t mind.” The elf said with another leer, bard felt like he was being sized up, like he wasn’t the wolf here at all.

But instead of making him scared it made him bold.

“Well in that case.” Bard declared, standing up from the floor, not bothering to even try to cover himself and beginning his walk back to his clothes and the barge.

This seemed to please the elf as he fell into step with Bard, as they walked, Bard allowed himself to really look at the elf. High cheekbones, thick dark eyebrows that set off blue eyes in an icy contrast, hair that looked like spun silk and shined like the stars themselves.

He was the most beautiful thing Bard had ever laid eyes on.

But it wasn’t just that, there was something in the way he moved with calculated, yet effortless grace. Bard found him enchanting. He guessed they could be intrigued by each other together.

And Bard couldn’t bring himself to worry about the elf knowing his secret. He was clearly not planning on telling anyone about him, he had known for months after all, why would he say anything now.

“You haven’t asked me how I came to be this way?” Bard remarked as they walked, he had imagined it would be one of the first things he was asked, instead the elf seemed content just to study him.

“Does it matter?” The elf’s response gave Bard pause, he had never really thought of it like that before.

“No, I guess not.” Bard agreed. The only thing that really mattered was that he was what he was, the road travelled to get there hardly made the least bit of difference anymore.

The elf didn’t speak as Bard pulled on his clothes, content just to watch him – only moderately lecherously – rather than ask inane questions.

“Why reveal yourself to me today? If you have been watching for so long?” Bard asked as he slipped on his worn tunic, nothing compared to the finery this elf wore; dark black, almost glittering fabric intricately clasped over his top half and rich looking grey legging tucked into high black boots.

“Curiosity. I was curious about how you would react, how you would behave, what you would do. You have piqued my interest. Although I do not yet know your name.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Bard could tell that this intriguing creature expected an answer.

“Bard.”

“Bard.” The elf repeated, rolling the name around on his tongue. Bard couldn’t help but like the way it sounded from his lips.

“Do I not get a name in return?” Bard enquired with a raised brow.

“Oh I am sure you know my name. Even if you are not aware that it belongs to me.” The elf responded, cryptic but with a mischievous note to his voice.

“Well that was cryptic.” Bard commented, making the elf smile as he began unmooring his barge.

The elf watched, not offering to help of course, as Bard unfastened the knots with practiced hands and climbed aboard.

“You called it your forest? Earlier, I mean.” Bard remembered, it had been niggling at him, he wondered if all elves were as possessive over their forest.

“Well yes, I am the king.” The elf – King Thranduil apparently – smirked at him as Bard gaped from the barge.

“But– ”

“I will see you again. No doubt on the next turn of the moon.” Thranduil cut in with another smirk, before turning and heading back through his, because they were indeed his woods.

Bard returned to Laketown a little dazed, trying to make sense of everything that had happened and failing. He had of course heard the rumours about the Elvenking; he was cold and arrogant, some even claim he was cruel, unforgiving to anything and anyone who crossed his boarders without permission.

But that hardly matched up with the elf he had met.

It had crossed his mind that the elf could be lying, that he might not be the ancient king. But for some reason Bard had known he was telling the truth. Perhaps it was the fact there was something so completely regal in the way he moved, maybe it was the way he spoke and the confidence that poured off him, or possibly the simple fact that there had been no reason to lie.

Bard wasn’t sure, but he still knew it had been the truth. 

The next cycle of the moon went by, and sure enough, when Bard awoke in the morning from the full moon, Thranduil was perched elegantly on a log, watching him.

“Surely a king has better things to be doing.” Bard stated as he hauled himself up from the forest floor.

“Probably.” Thranduil conceded, before smirking and dragging his eye’s up Bard’s bare form. “Then again…”

Bard frowned at him, but there was no heat in it. It’s not like he minded the beautiful Elvenking looking at him like that. He just hoped that at some point he might like to do more than just look, but Bard would not make the first move, it was hardly his place to be so presumptuous or forward, Thranduil was a king after all.

Thranduil laughed at his frown before tossing and bundle of clothes at him, hitting him square in the face.

“My clothes.” Bard stated with a raised eyebrow at Thranduil, who didn’t so much as blush.

“Indeed. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable around me.” Thranduil teased.

“You don’t make me uncomfortable.” Bard countered confidently, it was true after all. Besides, when a king and beautiful as Thranduil looked at you the way he was currently doing to Bard, it was hard to feel anything other than flattered (and a few other things).

“Oh?” Thranduil challenged as Bard slowly dragged the trousers up his legs, only making a slight show of it, but the elf had definitely noticed.

Bard smirked back in return as he finished the fastening on his trousers, shrugging on his tunic and leading the way back to the barge; even though he had absolutely no doubt Thranduil knew the way.

There meetings went on like this for a few months. Bard would wake up, Thranduil would be there, they would banter back and forth and the Bard would sail home. There meetings were always accompanied by an undercurrent of tension, of possibility, but nothing had come of it. Besides, Bard would not want to become the plaything of the Elvenking only to be tossed away when he inevitably got bored.

It was several months after that first meeting, it was a normal day, still over a week until the next moon, Bard moored up the Barge and waited for the barrels. He pulled the first out of the water and rolled it along the deck so as not to be in the way of the next.

He almost jumped out of his skin when he turned with the second barrel to see Thranduil perched on top of the first one, somehow making perching look regal. He smirked as Bard jumped a little having been caught off guard.

“Did I scare you?” He asked almost gleefully.

“I didn’t hear you coming.” Bard replied a little defensively.

“No heightened senses then I take it?”

“What? Why would I have heightened senses?”

“Because once a month you turn into a wolf, and wolves have very good hearing.”

“Oh. I’ve never really thought about it. Maybe as the wolf? I don’t know, I don’t tend to stop and think about it. You’ll just have to make more noise next time you sneak up on me.”

“Oh I don’t know. I quite enjoyed watching you jump. It was most amusing.”

“Bastard.” Bard grumbled, getting another of those musical laughs out of Thranduil, Bard thought he would be content trying to get those sounds (among others) out of Thranduil.

Which was of course completely ridiculous as Thranduil was an Elvenking and Bard was a lowly bargeman with a penchant for turning into a large dog.

At best Thranduil might fancy a quickie on the barge, and if his looks were anything to go by as Bard worked, that was exactly what he wanted. But unfortunately Bard wasn’t the type to go for sex without his emotions getting all tangled up, so it was far safer for him to pretend he didn’t notice Thranduil’s lewd looks, however much he might want to act on them.

It became far rarer for Thranduil to not arrive and keep him company while he collected the barrels than for him to be there. Chatting easily, Bard teasing at how much wine the elves must get through and Thranduil teasing him right back for being jealous about not being invited.

“What is it, my friend? You look troubled today.” Thranduil asked one afternoon, their chatter had not been what it usually was.

The Master had just declared his plans to tighten regulations on exactly when and why people on boats and barges could leave and re-enter the town, he’d been sneering at Bard as he made the announcement, before making a snide comment about not being able to see his elven concubine.

Bard had snorted to himself at how wrong he was, and then the idea of Thranduil being his concubine.

But Bard was worried, he did not know how he could get out of the town and back in on the nights of the full moon. He supposed he could try to claim that the barrels had taken all night to get there and just not come back from collecting them until the morning. But he reckoned that excuse would work once, twice at most before The Master just came up with another rule.

With a sigh Bard allayed his fears and future troubles to Thranduil.

“The Master is tightening regulations on when and why we can take the boats out of Laketown. If I leave when I have no business to he will not let me back in. I do not know how I am going to get out of town on full moon nights. Gods, Thranduil if I am found out I do not know what they will do. I will probably be killed, I do not know what will happened to my children, I can hardly think about it. Sorry I did not mean to dump this on you.” Bard finished, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“I am assured it is what friends are for. Besides it is a good thing you told me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can change the time the barrels will be released. I can make sure that on the full moon they just ‘happen’ to be coming during the night, I will have that repulsive master notified that you will be required to collect them over night on those nights. I am sure he is far too dim to cotton onto the correlation of the days.”

Bard gaped at Thranduil.

“You would do that.”

“Do not look so surprised. I am allowed to do nice things for my friend? Even one who smells like such a mixture of fish and wet dog.” Thranduil smirked back.

“I do not smell like dog.” Bard replied indignantly, Thranduil gave him a pointed look. “Whatever, we don’t all have your fancy elven soaps.”

“No, maybe I ought to get you some.” Thranduil

“As if I’d use it. Suddenly smelling like flowers would make people think that I’m definitely sneaking off to see an elven paramour every month.”

“And are you?”

“What, no, of course not.”

“Would you like to be?”

“Uh.” Bard said dumbly, making Thranduil throw his head back laughing at his expression.

And that was it, the sound of that laughter, that had Bard throwing caution into the wind and striding forward to kiss the infuriating Elvenking, catching him off guard as Bard took his beautiful face in his hands and pressed a hard kiss to his lips. Thranduil faltered in surprise but was quickly returning the kiss with just as fiercely.

Their relationship, or whatever it was, fling maybe? Reckless sex? Never went beyond the forest or the barge. Never into homes or the halls of Mirkwood. But just as he expected, Bard’s heart managed to get itself right in the firing line. But he could not stop now, he did not know how to.

Bard got it, he was just a lowly bargeman, Thranduil was an Elvenking, no matter how much he wanted more, this would have to be enough.

Thranduil got it, he was an Elvenking, Bard didn’t want to get involved with all the politics and hassle that would come with being with him fully, no matter how much he wanted more, this would have to be enough.

 

It only took a dragon and a huge battle for them to actually start communicating their feelings and get their shit together.

 

Now Thranduil complains about not being able to get the smell of wet dog out of his sheets.


	55. Discovering a kink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard helps Thranduil discover a kink he never realized he had.
> 
> Just.
> 
> Think.
> 
> About.
> 
> It.
> 
> hunnnngh.
> 
> Rated: E (this is pure pwp)

 

“Bard!” Thranduil gasped as Bard bit down and sucked on the sensitive tip of his ear, moulding his body to Thranduil’s, loving the way he could feel the Elvenking hardening where they were pressed together.

“Mmmm?” Bard rumbled into his ear, lazily rutting against Thranduil as his cock started to fill, trapping him against the high table in the elven dining hall. He didn’t feel he’d finished his breakfast quite yet.

“Not here anyone could see us.” Thranduil protested just as Bard slipped his thigh in between Thranduil’s legs, making him trail off into a moan at the friction.

“Yeah, they could.” Bard confirmed, pushing Thranduil tighter against the table as he pushed at his clothes, undoing enough of the intricate clasps to snake a hand inside and drag in along Thranduil’s chest, tweaking his nipples as he went, getting those delicious little whimpers he loved so much to fall from his plush, kiss reddened lips.

“I can’t behave like this, I’m their king.” Thranduil whined as Bard ground against him, pushing his clothes further off his shoulders until his upper half was enticingly bare for Bard’s mouth to descend on, biting marks across him, making him gasp.

“Mmm, they could walk in any second. See their king being taken apart by a lowly bargeman.” Bard murmured into his ear, and Thranduil whimpered a little at his words, and Bard could feel his dick twitch through his leggings.

“You like that idea? Like the idea that anyone could come in a see what you let me do to you?” Bard  smirked, slipping his hands over the round of his ass and lifting him, shifting him onto the table and caging him under his arms, bending down to kiss his neck, grinding down to make him arch.

“You all spread out beneath me, taking whatever I give. Letting me use you, use the king.” Bard practically purred directly into Thranduil’s ear, making him moan and buck up against Bard, trying to get the friction Bard was withholding.

“And you’ve always been loud. Gods I bet you’d just _echo_ off of the walls in here. Even if they don’t see you, everyone will hear you. They’ll know.”

Thranduil whimpered at Bard’s words and tried to drag him down on top of him, locking his long legs around Bard’s waist and pulling at his coat, but Bard denied him again and stood back up straight, making Thranduil whine in protest, even though his legs would not release him.

“But of course, if you would rather go somewhere more private.” Bard teased, looking as if he was making to leave – even though he had zero intentions of actually doing so – Thranduil grabbed his arm and tugged him back, biting at his lip and shaking his head.

Bard smirked wolfishly and claimed those lips in a fierce, rough kiss as he palmed Thranduil though his breeches before beginning to unlace them. He leant back again and pulled Thranduil’s leggings off him in one slow drag down his smooth legs. Bard discarded them, tossing them randomly aside and sealing his mouth over Thranduil’s in another biting kiss, wanton little noises escaping the Elvenking’s lips as Bard ran a hand over him, teasingly lightly, only Thranduil’s underclothes separating them.    

“Please.” Thranduil panted into his mouth, bucking up into Bard’s hand.

“Please what? What do you want me to do?” Bard teased, knowing precisely what Thranduil wanted but loving hearing him say it, beg for it.

“I want you, please, fuck me.” Thranduil begged shamelessly between panting breaths, moaning out as Bard bit at his neck and stripped off his underclothes completely.

Bards fingers skated down past Thranduil’s balls and back to tease at his hole. He was still a little loose and wet from their activities last night, it hard Bard straining in his trousers knowing that only he was allowed Thranduil like this, and everyone knew it, or at least, they were going to.

He fished a little vial out of his pocket, he had known what he wanted before following Thranduil down to breakfast, and no one could ever accused him of being unprepared. He slicked his fingers and easily slid two of them inside Thranduil, earning him a little whimper as Thranduil shifted his hips downwards. Thranduil didn’t speak much during sex, but _gods_ he was vocal, one of Bard’s favourite things was seeing what noises he could pull from him, how loud he could make him scream; and now was no exception.

He stroked and scissored his fingers exactly the way he knew drove Thranduil wild, teasing at that little bundle of nerves without ever more than glancing across it, driving Thranduil mad with the need for more.

Thranduil slung an arm across his mouth and Bard practically growled, using his free hand to pull it away from his face and pin it above your head.

“No, I want to hear you. I want _everyone_ to hear you.” Bard spoke voice low and rough in Thranduil’s ear, biting down on the lobe and pulling it between his teeth.

This time Thranduil didn’t try to hold back his wine, making Bard hum happily as he slid a third finger into Thranduil, he didn’t really need this much prep, not after last night’s vigorous couplings, but Bard was far more interested in driving Thranduil crazy, leaving him so fucked out he couldn’t even walk.

So with his fingers Bard stroked and stretched, brushing over his sweet spot just enough to keep him desperate, but not enough to provide any real amount of relief. Bard grinned into the deep kiss he was sucking into Thranduil’s neck as he felt his lover begin to squirm and cry out at the tease, trying to fuck himself down on Bard’s fingers.

Bard sucked on Thranduil’s bitten red bottom lip as unlaced his trousers and withdrew his fingers, Thranduil whimpering a the loss but practically fucking mewling as he felt the head of Bard cock nudging at his entrance.

Without warning Bard thrust forward, slamming into Thranduil and meeting Thranduil’s loud shout with a groan of his own as tight heat engulfed his dick. He immediately started fucking Thranduil at a punishing pace, hips snapping against his lush ass as the room was filled with the obscene sounds of skin on skin and Thranduil’s increasingly loud moans.

Turns out if you got loud enough the room did indeed echo.

Thranduil was crying out almost constantly under Bard’s brutal thrust, dragging his nails down Bard’s still clothed back that he knew would have left angry red marks across his back if it weren’t for his tunic. Bard sunk a hand back into Thranduil’s hair and dragged him up for a kiss, the slight change in angle making Bard nail Thranduil’s prostate on every thrust if the choked off noises he started to make were any indication.

Bard’s grip on Thranduil faltered slightly as he pounded into him, causing him to accidently pull hard on Thranduil’s hair, which was apparently a good thing, as it sent Thranduil slamming over the edge, coming between them completely untouched with an extremely loud cry of Bard’s name.

There was a piece of information to store away for next time.

Thranduil’s muscles suddenly clamping down around Bard, gripping him in an impossibly tight heat had him managing only half a dozen more erratic thrusts before he spilled inside Thranduil and collapsed on top of him.

Bard felt pretty smug as he got his breath back and pulled out, tucking himself back in while Thranduil remained a mostly unconscious wreck on the table.

“Hair pulling and a bit of an exhibitionist, I’ll have to remember that.” Bard purred into his ear, knowing there was no chance Thranduil would be able to go again anytime soon from the state of him, but enjoying the fucked out groan of appreciation his words got.

Bard chuckled at his still completely limp and blissed out lover, scooping his surprisingly light form up in his strong arms and carrying him towards their rooms.

He may have felt pretty smug about some of the looks he got as they went.

 

     


	56. Grieving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> no but as much as i masochistically love the “thranduil breaking down after bard’s death” headcanon i must admit that i don’t think this is what would happen. i think he wouldn’t allow himself to show such weakness, i believe he would just bottle everything up and refuse to talk…  
> maybe a minor private moment of throwing very breakable things against the wall, but nothing after that. Thranduil would 100% lash out violently; just look at the canon examples: confronting Thorin with his scars, slicing Tauriel’s bow, beheading that orc…. sudden and violent; all of them.

It had been over a month since Bard’s death.

Everyone, down to the lowliest of his subjects looked at him as if they were just waiting, wondering when he would break.

They had forgotten their place. They would be reminded.

As if he would allow himself to show such weakness, let alone in front of them. His heart may be broken but he had learnt how to hold it together with ice long ago. He had endured then and he would again. He remembered how to make himself numb and cold, he had spent so long that way he would never forget.

But this time he would not allow himself to be thawed.

Some impertinent subjects of his presumed to try to talk to him, as if he would share anything with them. He put them back in their place. They did not ask again.

Had they so quickly in the short span of Bard’s life forgotten who their king became when he was alone, he had heard them call him the ice king before Bard. They would call him that once more.

His subjects were easily enough subdued, stopped from trying to speak to him with a single, cutting, scathing and threatening response from Thranduil. His family was a different matter. He could not hurt them with his words in that way, but he did not know what to say to them. Had nothing he wanted to say.

So he did not talk to them at all.

He carried out his business, he looked after his kingdom. He went backwards because there was nothing left to go forward to. The future held him no comfort. So he returned to what he knew. 

He was all too aware that he could not lessen his pain. But he had learnt how to survive, how to hide it and push it down and put one foot in front of the other with a cool mask of indifference, no matter what he really felt.

He had learnt to fill the cracks left in his heart with ice. He had learnt that the fastest way to stop pitying looks and apologetic comments was with cruelty. He had learnt how to mask the cracks in his façade and how to avoid seeming weak.

He had learnt it all with the passing of his wife.

And now Bard had abandoned him too, he would do it all again, rebuild his walls of ice. He remembered how.

He was an old hand at this.

 

He only ever allowed his old cold mask to drop when he was alone. He hadn’t cried yet, maybe he should. But he did not see the point.

It was when he was alone, always when he was alone, that he would hear him. An echo in his head as his mind perfectly remembered his voice, its lilt. He missed that voice.

“You shouldn’t do that, Thran, don’t shut your family out.” It would echo around his head, Bard’s disapproving but worried voice. It was exactly what he would say if he could see Thranduil now.

But he could not see him, because he was dead. He had left Thranduil.

Thranduil moved around the room, focusing on anything to stop his mind from conjuring back up Bard’s voice. He did not need to be reminded when instead he wanted to forget.

His eyes were caught by the glass vase on the ornately carved mantel over the fire as it twinkled in the starlight streaming through from the sky.

It was annoying him, that kind of playful light had no place in his rooms anymore.

He took it into his hands, it was a beautiful piece of glasswork, Bard had done it himself, has spent many months making it. There were engravings on the glass, spirals and patterns that Bard had carefully done, styled in the same way as the rest of the Woodland Realm, but with something distinctly _Bard_ shining through.

His eyes caught on the words rendered into the glass.

_Melithon le anuir_

He hurled the vase at the wall, red searing through his vision. He watched it shatter into a thousand pieces.

You could not love someone when you were dead. Bard did not know what forever was. Thranduil knew all too well.

A sweet promise from Bard was the same as the curse Thranduil was now condemned to live under.

His knuckles turned white as he balled a fist, nails digging viciously into his palm as he tried to ground himself.

Instead his fist collided with the looking glass. Cracking the mirror and slicing at his knuckles.

His reflection felt more real, more true, with the jagged cracks slicing through the smooth exterior he presented to the world. He felt like he was looking inside himself. At what he really was now. He didn’t like it.

He smashed the mirror against the floor.

 

Tilda came rushing into his room, she must’ve heard the things shattering, she took in the sight from across the room, her expression grew more and more worried as she saw the sharp shards littering the floor and the dark blood dripping red over his pale hand.

As she entered Thranduil immediately froze his expression into the cool, unfeeling mask he was so famous for, because worried was not the only thing she looked.

She looked old.

Gone was the little girl he first met, the one he taught to braid and speak elvish and helped calm down after a nightmare. Now before him was a mother of two, middle aged, hair greying, face beginning to wrinkle.

He wondered if she would be next. Or Sigrid, Bain? Or maybe one of the grandchildren, illness was hardly uncommon among mortal men.

Mortal life was so fickle. He hated it.

“I wish you would talk to me ada, please.” She implored, almost begging. Her voice and face were sad as she saw the now familiar cold mask descend over Thranduil’s features.

Thranduil wished Bard was not dead, he wished that they would not all inevitably die as well.

But rarely do people get what they want.

 

He walked away.


	57. Thranduil in Panties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> ok but a modern thranduil who wears lacy panties under very tight pants because he knows bard likes to pull them off with his teeth 
> 
> Rated: E

 

Thranduil knew exactly what he was doing, and far more importantly he knew exactly what he was doing to Bard.

Trousers that tight would be bad enough – seriously had they been _painted_ on!? – but no, the real problem was that Bard knew what was under those ridiculous trousers.

About four two hours ago, Thranduil had very deliberately bent over in front of him, allowing Bard too see a string of fabric and a small black bow peeking above his trousers, before straightening up and innocently moving off to speak to their friends, as if that hadn’t been the most calculated thing he’d done all week.

He was wearing those damn panties. The black lace ones that were basically backless save for a few crisscrossing straps of lace.

They were a pair Bard particularly enjoyed peeling off with his teeth. But only when it was time for round two.   

His response to them was practically pavlovian at this point.

For goodness sake they had _guests_ , (guests that Bard had been trying to get rid of for the past two hours while Thranduil snickered and continued to bend over in his eye line).

And it was another hour still before Bard actually managed to get them out of the door and Thranduil up against it.

“A little desperate are we?” Thranduil teased, like he didn’t know exactly how unfair he’d been all evening.

Bard growled and bit down on Thranduil’s neck in the way he knew never failed to have him whimpering and going weak at the knees and grinding their hips together. He manhandled Thranduil down the hall and straight into the bedroom, trading rough kisses and ripping off each other’s shirts as they went.

“Trousers. Off.” Bard ordered into his mouth with a sharp slap to Thranduil’s rear and a hard bite to his collarbone that had Thranduil moaning before he took a step back to watch with a leer as Thranduil slowly dragged his sinfully tight trousers down his long smooth legs, silvery hair cascading down around him and looking up at Bard through his dark lashes like some kind of wet dream.

Only no, Bard’s imagination had never been this good.

Thranduil bit his lip as he stood at the foot of the bed, facing Bard, clad only in those damn panties.

He could see the red head of Thranduil’s cock peeking out above the waistband of the panties, black and lacy with Thranduil’s hard dick barely contained, Bard licked his lips, letting his eyes rake over his husband lecherously.

“Turn around, on the bed.” Bard instructed when he had had his fill of looking, well looking at that side anyway.

The sight of Thranduil lush bottom in those panties was something else entirely.

There was no back to them, just a few strings crossing over his pale skin, a little bow resting just perfectly between his round cheeks and another a little higher. Thranduil knelt on the bed for a little while, looking at Bard over his shoulder in that sultry way of his.

Bard palmed himself lazily through his trousers, content to just look for a little while, noticing the faded mark on his shoulder from one of Bard’s more lasting bites. But as usual Thranduil grew impatient – as much as he liked to be looked at – so after not very long he wiggled his hips enticingly before dropping down onto all fours on the bed and letting his back dip, pushing his ass back towards Bard before throwing a devastating look over his shoulder.

And well, Bard was only human.

He lost his trousers and underwear, kneeling behind Thranduil on their bed only moments later, but Thranduil was already shoving the lube towards him.

“Impatient today are we? And you had the cheek to call me desperate.” Bard teased, draping himself over Thranduil’s back, dragging his lips over the shell of his ear as he spoke before nibbling at it as making Thranduil whine and roll his hips back, grinding his ass against Bard’s dick.

Thranduil made another impatient, needy little whine and Bard rumbled out a laugh as he slid one finger into Thranduil’s hole and started to gently work him open.

“Did you end up teasing yourself just as much as me?” Bard purred into Thranduil’s ear, voice low and rough. “You just _love_ the feeling of the lace don’t you. Was it getting up hot every time it shifted against you? Turning you on?”

Thranduil whimper at Bard’s words tuned into a fully-fledged moan as Bard pressed in a second finger, stretching Thranduil open in all the ways he knew he loved best.

“Did your little plan to tease me backfire? Did you forget that you like wearing these almost as much as I like fucking you in them.” Bard continued, scissoring his fingers and opening Thranduil up.

“Uh, Bard. Now, please.” Thranduil begged, just about coherently as his hips rolled back onto Bard’s fingers.     

“You sure?” Bard checked, kissing just behind Thranduil’s ear, knowing that he usually stretched him on three fingers first.

“Yeah I want you now. Need you in me.” Thranduil panted desperately, and Bard didn’t need to be told twice.

He slicked himself up and lined up, nudging at Thranduil’s entrance, running his hands over the scarce fabric of the panties. His absolute favourite thing about them was that Thranduil didn’t need to take them off for Bard to be able to fuck him.

Bard started pushing into Thranduil slower than usual, only for Thranduil to force himself back until Bard’s hips were flush with his ass in one fast thrust, leaving them both groaning and Bard jerking at the sudden tight heat.

Bard kissed at the skin between Thranduil’s shoulders, giving Thranduil time to adjust as he always did, but once again Thranduil was apparently not having any of it and started fucking himself backwards almost immediately.

“Bard. Fuck me. _Please_.” Thranduil begged, but Bard had already gotten the message and was pulling out and slamming back into Thranduil, setting up a brutal pace with his hips.

Thranduil tried to keep up, moving his hips back to meet Bard’s, but as Bard started to nail his sweet spot on every thrust he collapsed from his hands, head buried in the bed, forcing his ass up at an even better angle as he gasped and moaned into every snap of Bard’s hips.

Bard wrapped his arms around Thranduil’s middle and brought him up, plastering his sweaty chest against his husband’s pale back, holding him up to bite on his neck and snake a hand down to rub his cock through the fabric of the panties.

“Bard. Uh, Mmm close.” Thranduil panted, head thrown back on Bard’s shoulder, red mouth hanging open, eyes shut.

Bard’s mouth found his even though the angle was awkward and with one perfectly aimed thrust Thranduil came with a loud cry, striping come into the panties and onto his stomach.

Thranduil went limp in his arms, come dumb and spent, Bard slipped out of him, getting a feeble whimper from his husband as he dropped down onto the bed and Bard finished himself over Thranduil’s back, painting his skin, ass and what little fabric the panties had with his come before collapsing on his back next to him.

Bard had fifteen minutes to recover before Thranduil was kissing up his stomach, straddling Bard in his come covered panties, ready for his second orgasm. Bard rolled them and licked his way down Thranduil’s firm abdomen before taking the panties between his teeth and dragging them off with a hungry look.

When he had them off he was back on Thranduil’s mouth and Thranduil rolled them back over and speared himself on Bard’s cock completely without warning, riding Bard hard and fast, fucking himself back on him and looking utterly wanton.

This time when they collapsed it was for the night.

Well, until bard woke up a few hours later with Thranduil’s mouth already around him.

 

If this was the result, Bard was going to have to buy Thranduil a few more pairs of panties…

 

[Thranduil's panties](http://www.luulla.com/product/99786/sexy-explosion-cross-string-lace-underwear-238)

 

Includes some sketches of Thranduil in said panties by [Thranduils-party-elk](http://thranduils-party-elk.tumblr.com/) that can be found [here](http://thranduils-party-elk.tumblr.com/post/110375629067/sketches-for-my-beautiful-thrandythefabulous-who) 


	58. Someone tries to poison Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Everyone lives AU. During a meeting with Thorin and Bilbo, Bard drinks poison meant for the Elven King. But, as everyone looks into it more an more, was it really? whether it was or not, Thranduil can't help but blame himself, and rarely leaves the bowman's side.(the children were also taken to the halls of the Greenwood/Erebor for safety with Tauriel). And as the others find out, Bard failed to mention that all is not right in Dale, and that there are some who do not want Bard as king.
> 
> Rated: T

 

All meetings between Erebor and Mirkwood – whether Dale was involved or not – were held in Dale. It had been Bard’s solution when he got bored of Thranduil bitching every time he had to go Erebor as apparently the dwarves had no idea how to be ‘gracious hosts’, and Thorin flat out refused to go to Mirkwood.

So bard treated them like the unruly children they were acting like and supervised all of their meetings in Dale. Which was technically not half way between the kingdoms, being far closer to Erebor, but it’s not like Thranduil minded having an excuse to crawl into Bard’s bed and stay a while.

Bard imagined that at some point, probably soon, they were going to have to make some kind of announcement. At first it had been a semi-casual mutual attraction thing, but now there was exactly nothing casual about it, and it would be nice not to have to make up excuses to see each other.

He wasn’t sure when it had gone from casual to easy love confessions. It had sort of just happened, but if he had to pinpoint a moment of realisation, it would be the day he had come downstairs to find Thranduil making Tilda a snack in their kitchen – Bard refused to have servants just for the four of them – so Thranduil was happily reaching up to the shelves she couldn’t and following her instructions with a smile as she told him what she would like.

Bard had known it then, and he hadn’t bothered wasting time, he had told Thranduil that very same day, completely without fanfare as they ate dinner. Thranduil had smiled and kissed him and said they he felt the same; and that had been that.

It was a particularly heated meeting, Bard and Bilbo had all but tuned out, letting Thranduil and Thorin battle it out over the trading agreements, it wasn’t technically his business and they usually managed to come to some strained agreement 

Bard started to sip his wine and let them argue it out, but it wasn’t long before he was starting to feel a little ill. Bard didn’t mention it, he wasn’t one to complain, not after raising three children on his own. Even as he could feel a fever steadily rising, a cold sweat built up and slight light-headedness, he didn’t say anything, just hoped Thranduil and Thorin were nearly done sniping at each other so he could sleep it off, whatever it was.

“Bard, are you okay? Bard?” Thranduil’s voice sort of floated over to him, like it was slightly out of phase.

“Yeah.” Bard responded but his voice came out slurred even to his own ears, his vision blurring at the edge.

“No you are not.” Thranduil answered frantically, he never had been good at dealing with Bard being ill.

Bard could swear he could see about three of Thranduil as he woozily watched him move out of his chair and the few steps to Bard’s turning him and the chair to face him. Words echoed around his head, actions seemed slightly delayed, he could feel Thranduil’s hands on his cheek and forehead before his hands seemed to move.

“M fine.” Bard protested, not used to being the one looked after, he went to take one of Thranduil’s hands but he missed, through his fuzzy vision he could see Thranduil’s expression grow increasingly worried.

“ _Boe enni nestron!_ ” Thranduil shouted to the elves that had accompanied him, who immediately rushed off, then in the common tongue he ordered again, reeling off a long list of herbs and plants that all strung together in Bard’s ears.

“Don’ fuss, I’ll b’ fine.” Bard said, but the words weren’t forming properly on his tongue.

“You’re sweating, disoriented, slurring your words and have a high fever. You are most clearly not fine, although you were ten minutes ago.” Thranduil stated, pressing and hand onto Bard’s chest when he tried to stand up.

Bard tried to protest but the words would not come, his bones were sore and his skin sensitive, like every nerve was on fire. Maybe he wasn’t alright. He felt his eyes drooping closed.

“Bard keep your eyes open.” Thranduil’s words cut through the haze that had overcome Bard, his tone brokered no room for argument, even if he was clearly becoming more and more worried.   

Bard listed to the side but forced his eyes to stay open, keeping them on Thranduil as best he could, but his body was sagging, becoming painful even if he did not move, like his very veins were burning. He cried out in pain as Thranduil slipped his arms around him, clearly intending to carry him off, but the contact sent pain searing through him.

Thranduil immediately removed his arms, shouting out more things that Bard did not catch before snatching up the goblet he had been drinking from. Thranduil brought up to his nose and breathed in before recoiling instantly.

“Poison.” He roared, throwing the goblet across the room, sending it clattering and most of the people gathered flinching and looking terrified of Thranduil’s clear rage.

Thranduil bit out commands ordering the people present to bring various things, Bard’s brain finding it hard to keep up with the speed of his voice, his eyes drooping again as he could _feel_ his body slowing down.

Thranduil swept up Bard despite the pain it caused him and laid him on the table, pushing back his hair and laying his hand over Bard’s heart and starting to murmur in elvish.

Bard didn’t listen to the words, he wouldn’t understand them anyway, but he knew that it was a healing spell at least. Instead he watched Thranduil, the way his normal glow intensified as if he was becoming the stars that wished they could be as beautiful as Thranduil.

But still Bard could barely keep his eyes open, could feel the way the his heart was not beating like it should, each one taking slightly longer to come than the last, he felt like he was burning and freezing at the same time. Either way he knew he was dying. Unable to force them open any longer, his eyes closed.

The last thing he was conscious of was Thranduil’s strangled, sobbed out cry of his name and felt his lips on his is a desperate kiss.

Then everything went black.

 

Bard came too slowly. He had never felt so groggy in his entire life. Instinctively he knew he was in Mirkwood, the air felt purer in Thranduil’s halls, lighter somehow. Gone from Dale, whisked away by his love to the watchful elves and their miraculous medicines.

 His mouth felt like cotton and his bones and muscles and even his skin _ached_ agonisingly, he could feel Thranduil along his right side, legs tangled together and arm slug across his middle holding him in an almost vice like grip. His face was buried in Bard’s neck and as he became more aware he could feel tears there and little shakes from the body next to him as wept at random intervals, like he was too exhausted for a constant stream.

Bard could hear mumbled, half bitten off words from Thranduil, almost intelligible through his distress, but Bard could tell it was elvish and could make out some of the endearments he liked to use on Bard.

“Darlin’” Bard attempted to say, but his voice croaked and barely got through the word. Still it was enough, Thranduil gasped and let out a violent sob of relief.

“By the Valar Bard I am so sorry. I love you so much and this is all my fault. I should never have let it happen. I can’t– I, you almost –” Thranduil cried into his neck, Bard didn’t understand what he was talking about. Thranduil lent up slightly and motioned to a guard at the door who slipped out before tucking himself firmly back into Bard’s side, Bard saw that his glamour was down, like he had not been able to sustain it under such distress.

“What do you mean?” He rasped out, voice strained and sore. “You said I was poisoned. Not your fault.” He forced out of his throat, even though it felt shredded.

“It was my goblet.” He gasped, Bard turned a little so he could see him and noticed dark circles under his eyes, hair messily tied back, eyes bloodshot, and his pale skin did not glow like it normally did. He looked like he hadn’t slept since it happened. “You were drinking from the goblet I gave you. They must’ve seen the elven design and assumed it was my own. I am so sorry, I can never make this alright, I almost lost you, I– ”

“Hey.” Bard interrupted voice still weak but slowly returning to him. “This was not your fault.” He reassured voice as forceful as he could make it in his weakened state.

“But it was. They were trying to poison me. Why would anyone be attempting to kill you? I bet it was the dwarves, they would’ve had the opportunity and the means. They stood there offering their condolences.” Thranduil practically spat sitting up as he worked himself into a rage, seething as he went on, mind conjuring up exactly how the dwarves had done it.

“ _Meleth nin_.” Bard spoke softly, knowing his use of elvish would catch Thranduil’s attention. He found Thranduil’s hand and laced their fingers together.

Thranduil’s attention snapped to him, face going soft and anxious. Bard tugged him as best he could, but Thranduil understood and settled back next to him on the bed, expression caught between worry, sorrowfulness and anger.

“It was not the dwarves.” Bard said softly, but before he could eplain Thranduil was speaking.

“How do you know, they have hated elves forever, especially me since Smaug, they– ” Bard pressed his fingers gently against his lovers lips to stop him.

“It was not the dwarves because I doubt it was intended for you. They got the victim they intended, if not as permanently as they wanted.”

“What do you mean? Who would try to kill you?” Thranduil asked highly distressed.

“There is unrest in Dale. Not much but present. There had been rumours of a plot, I had not given it any credence, believing it empty.” Bard laughed sardonically, realising how wrong he had been.

“Why did you not tell me?” Thranduil said, hurt in his voice along with the worry.

“I did not want you to worry.” Bard admitted, and then he added, a little more ashamed. “I did not want you to think I was a bad king.”

“I would _never_ think that. You saved your people. Who could be so ungrateful?” Thranduil demanded to know.

“I believe they are old supporters of the Master. Who are doing considerably less well under me, now that they are required to work and contribute to the city. They had wanted to resume their old easy roles, I would give them no such thing. I had not considered them dangerous. Clearly I was wrong.” Bard internally scolded himself for being so naïve, Thranduil looked murderous, though he knew it was not directed at him.

Bard was about to attempt to talk Thranduil down, but at that moment the doors to the room burst open and there was a chorus of ‘da!’ before three more bodies were piling onto the bed, luckily this was Thranduil’s room – well, their room – so the bed was huge and opulent, there was room for them all.

Tilda piled on top of him, hugging him tight before Thranduil eased her off, knowing Bard was still sensitive and tucked her in between them. Sigrid took his hand and buried her face in his shoulder, he could see Bain’s worried but relieved face behind her so Bard brought his arms up and pulled him into the cuddle pile as well, they all needed it.

He had had no doubt that Thranduil would bring the children here with them, they called him ada, at this point they were his children in every way that mattered as well. But he still mouthed thank you to him, getting a kiss to the side of his head telling him he understood.

They held onto each other for a while, no one quite ready to let go yet. Thranduil’s hand had found his and under their linked hands and arms they held their children tight.

When he felt well enough, Bard ventured out of their room, Thranduil close by his side, steading his steps. There were books strewn everywhere and in the library it looked at though the entire section on medicine – which wasn’t a small section – had been ripped out, spread around the room, books open as if he had had every elf in Mirkwood searching for a cure, and his probably had.

He even saw a tell-tale grey hat sat in the kitchens, Thranduil had been desperate enough to call for Gandalf. Bard wasn’t entirely sure how he had survived whatever happened to him, but something of an answer came when they came across Elrond in the halls, happy to see Bard on the mend.

“It is not a short trip from Rivendell, how long was I unconscious for?” Bard asked, whatever had happened had gone on long enough and had been bad enough for Thranduil to call for the great healer of Imladris to come to them.

“Far too long.” Was the answer Thranduil gave him, expression darkening a little as though he could not bear to think about it.

He learned later that the Mirkwood healers had been able to keep Bard from slipping away altogether, but it had taken the skills of Elrond to bring him back properly.

It was a full two weeks before Bard was well enough to travel. Thranduil did not leave his side, and his children rarely did either, but at least he knew his love was sleeping now, curled into Bard’s side at night and holding on far too tight.

Thranduil was reluctant to let Bard ride alone, but he eventually gave in, satisfying himself with just riding close by. Instead Tilda rode tucked in front of Thranduil on his great elk, looking like she was having the time of her life the whole way as Thranduil showed off for her a little, and Sigrid and Bain, both capable riders went either side of Tauriel. Their little convoy was flanked by a considerable number of Thranduil’s personal guard – not that he needed one, Bard had seen him fight.

As they arrived in Dale it was to quite an audience who all cheered to their kings safe return. And if anyone thought it was odd that the Elvenking was carrying one of Bard’s sleepy children and holding their king’s hand as they went into his royal rooms – stoically not a palace as Bard had continued, the great hall was fine for any official business – no one said anything.

Bard remembered feeling Thranduil’s lips on his own and a cry of his name in the great hall in Dale just before everything went black, he supposed word had spread. Well that was one way to make an announcement.

Bard discovered exactly why Thranduil brought such a large contingent of elves with them as Thranduil almost immediately had them launching an investigation to find the people who had poisoned him.

It was who Bard has suspected, a small group of five lazy, cruel men who were bitter about having lost their easy life with the death of the master. They had not been hard to find, they were less than sophisticated or subtle, Thranduil only had to catch one before he was spilling the names of the other five traitors.

Thranduil had them in the middle of the town square, not bothering to mask the cold rage that covered his beautiful elven features as he looked down at them. Thranduil had wanted to execute them, it had only been Bard practically begging in his ear for him not to, that that was not the way he wanted to rule that had stopped him.

Bard had exiled them from Dale instead. He did not know if that was as good as a death sentence, Erebor would only offer them warning shots and Thranduil would gladly let the spiders take them. But Bard did not particularly care, he only wanted them out of his city.

They scurried away terrified but with their lives, desperate to escape the icy glare of the Elvenking.

After they were gone the people of Dale celebrated, no one sad to see them banished, quite the opposite in fact. The next day Bard and Thranduil had been surprised by the people with a banquet, celebrating the return of Bard and getting rid of the traitors.

The people of Dale ate and danced and joked, and when Thranduil took his face in his hands and kissed him right there in the middle of the hall, they cheered and wolf whistled making Bard blush and Thranduil smirk.

So Bard dipped him and kissed him thoroughly, leaving him smirking and Thranduil blushing, but only for a moment before he was pulling Thranduil’s lips back to his own.

They carried on until Tilda told them they were being embarrassing. Thranduil and Bard shared a look before scooping their little girl up and each pressing a sloppy kiss to one of her cheeks.

Her shrieks of laughter and the sheer happiness in Thranduil’s eyes was not something he ever forgot. But it was something he endeavoured to see again and again.

 

He succeeded.


	59. Bard gets a new favourite outfit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> SO BARD RAIDS THRANDUIL’S CLOSET AS A JOKE BECAUSE HE THINKS THRANDUIL IS WAY TO SERIOUS AND THE RESULT IS MEGA SWAG-   
> Thranduil is floored.  
> Then the clothes are floored.  
> The frickle-frack takes priority over fashion swag.
> 
> Rated: T

The outfit in question...

([x](http://33.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m95hqrroOf1rwda4io1_500.gif))

 

Bard snorted as he dug through Thranduil’s ridiculous wardrobe, well, Bard called it a wardrobe, but in actual fact it was a room in itself, complete with seating. Honestly how many different outfits did one elf need?

Hundreds, the answer was apparently hundreds. And that wasn’t even counting the jewellery.  

Bard had survived for most of his life with only two outfits at time, the most important thing always being a warm outer coat, and even as king Bard had not had many clothes made, and to be honest most of the ones he did have were from Thranduil anyway.

There were things in here that Bard had never even seen him wear, and they had been together for a few years now. Seriously did he have new things made every week?

That was a stupid question, of course he did.

 Anyway, Thranduil had been called out of the long lie in they were having to go and do kingly things and Bard had gotten bored and decided to raid his ridiculous wardrobe.

When he first saw the golden outfit, Bard had laughed, pulling it out of the closet and studying it. He wasn’t even sure how to describe it, it was gold, as in looked as though it was actually lined with gold, woven down to look almost like ropes of gold. A cloak in the same style and a gold skirt – but not like any skirt he had seen maidens wear, no it was plated with gold and designed to sit atop strong thighs.

He was studying the intriguing outfit when he realised why he had never seen Thranduil wear it; it was clearly not made to his measurements.

It was made to Bard’s.

Curiosity well and truly spiked at the realisation, Bard stripped off his clothes, plain deep blue tunic and coat, with dark trousers, and traded them for the outfit of gold.

It took him a while to even work out how to get it on, let alone do it all up, but he managed it and turned to the tall looking glass positioned to the side of the clothing, angled towards the middle for easy viewing.

He looked good, if a little odd. The muscles on his thighs were accentuated in all the right ways and the skirt sat high on them – not really at all suitable for wearing outside. The cloak accentuated the broadness in his shoulders and the lack of any sleeves left the strong muscles of his arms on show, the shade of gold complimented his skin perfectly. Bard knew none of this was accidental – when was anything Thranduil did accidental?

As he was examining himself in the mirror he remembered something he had spied in the draws upon draws of jewellery, a matching gold crown, well something between a crown and a circlet anyway. It was a circle of golden leaves, the exact same style as the rest of the outfit, resting in his soft brown curls perfectly.

He looked _good_.

And the only conclusion he could draw from the strange outfit was that Thranduil had had it made for the sole purpose of making Bard look good and not sharing it with anyone else – as it was hardly appropriate attire for anywhere.

But why hadn’t Thranduil given it to him yet? Maybe he was a little embarrassed? He had essentially built Bard an outfit that made him look like some kind of god.

“Ugh, that was so tedious. Bard? Where are you?” He heard Thranduil walk back into his chambers before calling to Bard when he did not find him lounging around in bed.

“I’m in here.” He called back ot Thranduil, a slightly smug smile on his face while he waited for Thranduil’s reaction.

Thranduil did not disappoint.

He faltered in the doorway and just stared, drinking in the sight of Bard hungrily and his eyes went dark.

“You have to tell me, whatever is this outfit for?” Bard teased, although he really was curious.

His answer came in the form of Thranduil dropping the papers he held and sweeping across to Bard, lifting him up easily and slamming him up against the wall.

“It was for this.” Thranduil growled making Bard laugh as he locked his legs around Thranduil’s middle, Thranduil’s mouth and hands beginning to roam over Bard’s body, pushing the outfit around for him to gain access, Bard could already feel how hard Thranduil was, pressed against him.  

Bard decided he like the outfit a lot during the first round.

He like it even more when it hit the floor for the second round.

In fact it might just be Bard’s favourite outfit, if only for the way it always seemed to hit the floor and be accompanied by some earth-shattering orgasms.

 

Yep, definitely his favourite.

 


	60. Bodyswap AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> bard & thranduil accidentally switch bodies and thranduil tries to get used to being human ("gross! where's all this sweat coming from? and what do u mean I have a 'cold' I think im fucking dying oh god") while bard is all like "course im just gonna have a bath I need to stay hygienic after all, it's not to ogle at such a fabulous body pff wat u talkin about defz not gonna jerk off either"
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard was jerked awake by a shriek from the room next to him and the loud thump of someone hitting the floor. Which was odd, because Thranduil was in the rooms next to his own and he was normally far too graceful to fall out of bed, and why had he been shrieking?

Bard groaned into his soft pillows, his friend was such a drama queen it was probably something completely irrelevant, like a tangle in his silken hair.

Bard had refused the offer for a palace, not wanting one especially when the resources could be put to such better use, so instead they had just been given the largest still in-tact house in Dale, not matter how much Bard protested.

Which was why he was able to hear his friend clattering about, having said that, as Bard woke up a little more, it sounded as though the noise was coming from the wrong side, and he could hear it _really_ well, as if he’d just had cotton removed from his ears that had been there his entire life. Everything was sharper, clearer, he really shouldn’t be able to hear Thranduil in the other room so clearly.

What on earth was he up to?

Bard groaned again, burying his face in his bedding as he mentally prepared to get up and go and see what all the fuss was about, just in case it was actually something serious. But before he could he heard the door to Thranduil’s chambers slam open, and then seconds later his door shoved open.

“Bard. Bard get up.” Came Thranduil’s demanding voice, but, was that Thranduil’s voice? It was certainly inflected like Thranduil did but something was off. Maybe he had a sore throat, did elves get sore throats?

“Ugh, what? Why are you being so loud?” Bard griped, and his voice sounded off as well. “And why are you barging into my chambers? Not exactly proper etiquette.” He teased, they’d been walking the line for a while now, between allies, friends and something more. So to be honest there wasn’t much etiquette left between them anyway.

“Well if you would open your eyes I’m sure it will become clear to you!” Thranduil shrieked borderline hysterically in the voice that just wasn’t right.

Bard huffed and dragged his eye open, when he saw Thranduil he yelped fell off his bed, upon which point he dragged himself up off the floor and tripped backwards when he saw pale, unblemished slender hands catch him from his fall. He noticed a dull pain down his left side, and couldn’t see out of one of his eyes, which was incredibly confusing, but hardly the primary problem at the moment.

“Do you see our predicament now?” Thranduil grit out through clenched teeth.

Well, through Bard’s clenched teeth, just as Bard was stood with silken blonde hair cascading around shoulders that were decidedly not his.

“What the–”

“I don’t know.”

“But how– ”

“I _don’t_ know.”

“But– ”

“Bard!” Thranduil yelled. “I. Don’t. _Know_!”

Suddenly Bard could see just how stressed Thranduil was about this, Bard was too busy trapped in the wildly confused stage to be able to worry yet. But still he wanted to reassure his friend, not that he was entirely sure how to do that. He walked around the bed – Thranduil’s bed – to come and sit near Thranduil, tripping over his feet as he moved limbs that were too long.

“Okay.” Bard said calmly, his lilting accent sounding strange in Thranduil’s voice, he took Thranduil’s hand and pulled him down to sit next to him on the bed. “What do you want to do about it? Pretend we’re ourselves? Tell people? Tell some people?”

“I think it would be best if we kept it to ourselves, at least for a little while. Until we know how and why this has happened and how long we will be like it.” Thranduil reasoned.

It was so surreal, hearing his own voice but without his accent and phrased as Thranduil would. Not to mention the fact that he was looking at himself, hair messy as it was in the morning before he half pulled it back, random clothes thrown on haphazardly as they were the first things Thranduil came across.

It was weird.

“If you think that would be best.” Bard smiled, giving Thranduil shoulder a squeeze.

“By the Valar how are we going to pass you off as me?” Thranduil sighed dramatically before sweeping off as best he could with unfamiliar limbs and searching through his clothes.

Bard laughed a little as he saw Thranduil ripping through his wardrobes – honestly the amount of clothes had had brought with him considering he was only visiting was obscene.

“Here, put these on.” Thranduil ordered, passing Bard some pretty complicated looking gowns and robes. Thranduil’s clothing had always been a mystery to him, wondering how it was all held together. Not that he thought about how to undress the Elvenking…much.

“Um.” Bard said dumbly, staring lost at the clothes without a clue how to get into any of them.

“Oh.” Thranduil said as he realised what Bard meant before coming over and stripping Bard’s undershirt off of him with no warning.

“Whoa.” Bard replied, surprised by Thranduil forwardness (not that he minded one little bit if he fancied undressing him, but a little warning might be nice, and not being faced with his own face would also be nice).

“Honestly Bard I know exactly what my body looks like.” Thranduil pointed out, raising one of Bard’s eyebrows in a way that was unnervingly Thranduil-esq.    

“…That is a good point.” Bard admitted, allowing Thranduil to dress him and trying to tamp down his blush. His body or not his brain was all too aware that technically it was Thranduil who was touching him, brushing against him as he was dressed.

Bard thought he was done as Thranduil did the final fastening on his robes and walked off, but he was apparently wrong as he was pulled to sit on the floor as Thranduil got a chair and started brushing at his hair gently before placing a beautiful silver circlet on his head.

“The next part is going to be trickier.” Thranduil stated as Bard got up.

“Why?” Bard asked, not knowing what Thranduil was referring to.

“I need you to learn to cover up my scars.” He explained quietly.

“What scars?” Bard queried, he had never seen a single imperfection on Thranduil’s skin before.

Thranduil motioned, almost looking ashamed to the side of Bard’s face, he turned to look in the looking glass and suddenly the dull ache down his left side and inability to see from that eye made more sense.

“Oh Thran, what happened?” Bard asked earnestly, ghosting his fingers down the still sensitive old scars, seeing the way one eye was completely clouded over, the way he cheek fell away completely.

“You are not the only one who has faced dragons.” Thranduil replied sadly. “To cover it up all you really have to do is will it to look normal, unscarred.”

“Why do you cover it?” Bard wondered aloud, he saw Thranduil’s uncharacteristically anxious expression in the mirror and turned to walk back over to him.

“Because I do not want people to see them.” Thranduil told him, Bard could not tell if it was shame or a fear of being seen as weak or ugly that caused him to hide it. “I had hoped you would never have to see them.” Thranduil continued a little bitterly, looking at the scars with disgust.

“You’re the most beautiful person I have ever seen. Scars and all.” Bard replied earnestly, placing a kiss to Thranduil’s knuckles – which was weird, because they looked like his knuckles. Thranduil blushed a little and suddenly the air was heavy with this _thing_ that existed between them but neither of them had ever acted on.

Bard cleared his throat at the sudden tension and closed his eyes and concentrated on willing away the scars, on achieving the smooth, flawless skin that Thranduil presented to the world.

“Thank you.” He heard Thranduil say in a soft voice as he felt his own rough fingers ghost down his now smooth cheek.

“You concentrate on this every moment of every day?” Bard asked, careful to keep a certain amount of his mind on the scars.

“I have been doing it long enough that I don’t really have to think about it anymore.”

“Right, well I haven’t, so you’re going to have to elbow me whenever it starts dropping.” Bard joked, even though it was breaking his heart a little to know that the glamour did nothing to ease the persistent, dull ache along his left.

It also occurred to him that Thranduil had a penchant to keep Bard on his left, firmly in his blind spot and had, in fact, since the very beginning.

“I am supposed to be leaving the day after tomorrow.” Thranduil pointed out.

“Yeah well, I think you’re going to be extending your trip.” Bard replied, they could think up some excuse as to why Thranduil needed to stay.

“Agreed. In fact I think I’ll be loath to let you out of my sight at all.” Thranduil stated.

“Yeah, I think it’s probably best if we stick firmly together until we have decided what to do about this mess.” Bard agreed, knowing there was no hope of them getting through this unless they worked as a team, but then again, they had got very good at working as a team over the past eighteen months.

They gave each other a few quick lessons in how to behave like one another, but to be honest they had spent enough time together to have the basics down, although, Thranduil was having an amusing amount of trouble with the concept of slouching a little.

“King’s do not slouch.” He had protested as Bard tried to manhandle him into a mild slouch.

“Well this king spent his life as a bargeman and therefore does not have the ramrod posture that you do.” Bard laughed, pushing lightly at Thranduil’s shoulders.

“Fine.” Thranduil replied petulantly but at least attempting to seem less rigid. “But you need to do something about that wonderful lilt in your voice. It just sounds odd coming from my mouth.”

“Yeah yeah I know I’m trying.” Bard grumbled, attempting to neutralise your accent. “I don’t suppose you could mimic it while you’re me?” He asked, knowing it would sound odd for him to have the perfect pronunciation of Thranduil.

However, then Thranduil attempted to speak with his accent and Bard laughed so hard he almost fell over; they decided not to worry about Thranduil trying to do it.

They left Thranduil’s chambers – which Bard guessed were now his chambers? Gods this was confusing – together and headed to the library. They bumped into Tauriel as they were leaving Thranduil’s chambers, she gave them a look that Bard could not decipher that seemed to be somewhere between surprise and gladness before bowing politely and continuing her walk.

They headed to the library where they immediately started pouring over every single book on magic in there, instructing everyone else in there to leave them so that they could speak freely.

They found absolutely nothing, not a single thing in any of the books on magical body swapping. Thranduil quickly wrote out a letter, giving it to Bard to give to one of the elves that had accompanied him to take back to Mirkwood, it had very cryptic and vague instructions for them to start looking through elven books on magic as well.

“If only Mithrandir hadn’t _finally_ decided to leave, he’d hung around long enough, over staying his welcome as usual, then he finally leaves just when he might have been useful.” Thranduil bitched, making Bard snort, Thranduil shot him a horrified look for that, like he couldn’t quite believe that his body was even capable of snorting.

They continued for a few more hours, fruitlessly combing back over some of the books before they both collapsed hopelessly and pretty mentally exhausted on the table. They were woken up a little while later by excited knocks on the door, Bard’s children – because they were the only people who knocked like they were playing out a wild symphony – didn’t bother to wait for an answer before coming cashing into the room and went running towards Thranduil.

“Da! You’ll never guess what’s happened!” Tilda shouted happily, Sigrid and Bain looking equally excited as they all ran into Thranduil for a hug – as had become their customary way of greeting Bard lately.

Bard was trying to think of something that would save him from the onslaught of his children, but before he could his ears picked up a sigh from Thranduil and he watched as he saw him visibly relax and hold his children tight, burying his face in the tops of the kids’ heads. Bard’s head found it weird because it looked like him, but his heart knew that he liked the sight of Thranduil and his children far more than he should.

“I think there’s probably something we should tell you guys as well.” Thranduil said, giving Bard a look, he nodded his head, his kids probably should know what had happened, he was terrible at keeping things from them anyway.

The kids pulled back and glanced between them before Sigrid and Tilda beamed so brightly their faces looked like they were going to break and Bain groaned.

“Really!” Tilda shouted happily.

“Oh da I’m so happy for you.” Sigrid smiled to them both

“Yeah like I’m happy for you but I had bet Sigrid it would take longer.” Bain added.

And what the hell were they talking about?

“Right, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Bard said, aware that his children’s faced snapped to him, recognising their da’s voice even if it was from the wrong mouth. “What we were going to tell you is that we woke up this morning in each other’s bodies.”

“Oh, sorry.” Sigrid said emabassred. “Wait, what? How?”

“What?”

“How does that even work?”

Was the chorus they were met with. They spent a while explaining that no, they had no idea how it had happened and yes they were looking for a way to reverse it and no they weren’t allowed to tell anyone.

Tilda then announced that they would have to wait to hear their news because it wouldn’t be as amazing or exciting after that. Bard and Thranduil both smiled at her and she managed to get them both to agree to come outside and play with her in the gardens – apparently Thranduil was just as helpless against his little girl’s pleading face as he was.

They ended up spending the whole day out there, which was probably better than stressing themselves out in the library anyway. Thranduil had been chasing Tilda around for about an hour much to her shrieks of delight whenever he caught her and tossed her in the air, Bard wasn’t sure which one of them looked happier.

Probably him watching them to be honest.

“You know.” Sigrid said gently from beside him. “It would be okay you know, we just want to see you happy.”

“I am happy.” Bard smiled, unsure what she was talking about.

“Yeah, I know you are right now, we’re all here. We’re _all_ here.” He smiled at him before bumping him with her shoulder and leaving him to his thoughts.

 

Was he happier when Thranduil was here? He knew he was attracted to him, which was weird because at the moment that was what he looked like, but did he have feelings for him?

Bard realised how stupid a question that was when he watched Thranduil put Tilda on his shoulders so she could reach a pear from the tree. Of course he did, had for a while now, but that didn’t mean Thranduil felt the same.

It would be a problem to be dealt with after the more glaring one.

Thranduil inturrputed him from his thoughts by coming over to him with a disgusted and startled look on his face.

“What is this! It’s disgusting!” Thranduil cried dramatically, wiping a hand across his damp forehead and trying to air his clothes.

“Um, well you’ve been running around in the sun for over an hour, so I’d say it’s a pretty good bet that it’s sweat.” Bard explained slowly, unable to hold in his laugh at Thranduil’s horrified expression.

“You mean this is normal!?” He all but shrieked, making Bard and his children laugh at him.

“Well, yeah.” Bard continued to laugh, the way Thranduil’s expression was getting more and more horrified was absolutely priceless.

“By the Valar this is revolting.” Thranduil lamented, stripping off Bard’s coat and trying to hold his shirt away from his skin.

“Don’t worry princess you can have a bath later, I promise it washes off.” Bard managed to get out between peals of laughter that were beginning to make his stomach hurt, Sigrid had also stopped trying to hold in her giggles.

Thranduil grumped at them all, but he couldn’t stay annoyed for long, not when Tilda was grabbing his hand and wanting to show him something he had found near a patch of flowers.

They stayed outside for the rest of the day happy to just be keeping away from all the other people and having to worry about pretending to be each other, until eventually Tilda started yawning and fell asleep in Bard’s lap, Bain and Sigrid looking about ready to call it a day as well.

So Bard scooped up his little girl and they all walked back through the house, Bain and Sigrid disappearing off to their own rooms on the way. It was only afterwards that Bard realised that they had just walked through the house with what looked like Thranduil carrying little Tilda while Bard followed.

The other people in the house hadn’t even batted an eyelid at them.

“Now you can go wash off all of that horrible mortal sweat.” Bard teased as they headed down the corridor to their adjacent rooms.

“Oh that reminds me.” Thranduil said before going into his room, which Bard supposed he would be staying in for now.

“What?” He asked following him in, but Thranduil was writing something down and passing it to Bard. “What’s this?” He queried, looking at the list of instructions.

“That, is how you wash my hair.” Thranduil smirked before practically skipping off to his own (well, Bard’s) chambers.

Bard ran himself a bath in the little bathing room that every bedchamber in the house had attached, one of the few luxuries he’d allowed and struggled through learning how to undo all of the intricate clasps on the gowns.

He blushed to himself as he got down to Thranduil’s underclothes, he felt like he shouldn’t look or something (even though he _really_ wanted to), he slipped them off trying not to look – or at least not stare – and climbed into the warm water, relaxing immediately.

Bard followed Thranduil’s obscenely long list of instructions and washed through the long silky locks of hair, getting that done before settling back into the bath properly.

He was keeping his eye’s stoically shut and trying not to think about the fact that the body he might have (definitely had) been fantasising about was literally sprawled out naked in front of him. But then, Thranduil had instructed him to go and take a bath to wash his hair hadn’t he, so surely he knew Bard would be seeing him naked? And he was at the moment taking a bath in Bard’s body, he would see things too.

And okay, the thought of Thranduil seeing him naked was having some unfortunate side effects on certain parts of his – Thranduil’s? – anatomy. Problem was, the minute you try _not_ to think about it, it’s the only thing you can think about, so it only took a few minutes before he really did have a problem going on between his legs.

Bard tried to ignore it, he was a single father of three, he was good at ignoring it because he never had time. But right now his brain or at least a certain part of him, seemed to be well aware that he did have time.

Bard really did try to ignore it, but it was _hard_. Which in his head was probably a poor choice of words. He ignored it all through his bath but then he was in bed and he wanted to go to sleep and he was wrapped up in the scent of Thranduil which wasn’t helping and it’d been like it for almost an hour it couldn’t be good for you to stay like that and really it was technically him, and..

And he’s obviously a terrible person.

But a sated terrible person who was now sinking into the bed like it was a cloud and drifting off to a relaxed sleep.

 

They continued searching for answers over the next few days, and if anyone found the way the kings appeared to be attached at the hip all of a sudden strange, then no one said anything.

In fact, when they announced that Thranduil would be extending his stay all they were met with were knowing smiles. Bard had absolutely no idea what they thought they knew, but it certainly wasn’t that they had undergone some strange body swap.

It was on the fourth day when Thranduil came crashing into his bedchambers at ass o’clock in the morning.

“Thranduil what the hell. Get out. It’s not even light out.” Bard groaned throwing and arm over his face and stoically ignoring Thranduil, hiding beneath his covers.

“No this is serious Bard I think I may be dying I think your body is dying.” Thranduil started frantically shaking him awake, Bard tried to bat him off but the Elvenking was persistent (which was far too nice a word to use).

“Ugh, fine. What?” Bard gave in sitting up in the bed.

“I don’t know, I woke up like this! My throat is scratchy and sore, I keep coughing, my nose is _runny,_ my sinuses feel like they’re going to burstand most worrying of all I simply cannot breathe through my nose!” Thranduil reeled off frantically as if he really did believe he was going to die.

“You woke me up for a cold! Seriously?” Bard griped, but Thranduil was looking helpless (well he was making Bard’s face look helpless anyway. “Fine. Wait here.” Bard sighed, climbing out of bed and throwing on a robe over his night clothes before heading sleepily into his room.

He collected up some handkerchiefs and headed to the kitchen, luckily, because it was a stupid hour in the night, or morning or whatever that no one saw what looked like the Elvenking making a steaming cup of Bard’s well known sinus clearing remedy, it should at least last long enough for Thranduil to go back to sleep.

“Here.” Bard said, handing Thranduil the handkerchief. “Go blow your nose and then drink this.” He instructed before climbing back into bed.

Thranduil did as he was told, making a face at the taste of the drink, but at Bard’s glare he drank it without a fuss – maybe it was Thranduil’s face, very glare-able, Bard reckoned it was the eyebrows.

“You should feel a bit better in a few minutes but it’s not a cure, just alleviates the symptoms for a while so you can sleep.” Bard explained with a yawn, rolling over to face Thranduil where he was sat on top of the bed, about halfway down.

“You mean this is a thing that happens to you a lot?”

“MMm hmm.” Bard responded sleepily, settling down into the mattress.

“How do you cope? Do you just have to wait it out? How often does it happen?” Thranduil rambled on, clearly having trouble with the whole concept of ‘a cold’. Bard grabbed him and dragged him down onto the bed.

“Thran. Shut up and go to sleep.” Bard mumbled sleepily, and much to his surprise, Thranduil settled down, slipping under the covers, and did just that. And if Bard didn’t move his hand from where it was on his chest, well, it was only because he was too tired to bother.

 

Bard couldn’t help but wonder if it was Thranduil that snored or his body. Maybe it was the cold.

He hoped one day he would find out.

 

When they woke up, neither of them commented on how they’d ended up tangled together. Thranduil bitched about his cold all day and Bard made him another steamy cup of his cold remedy so that he would be able to sleep and neither of them commented on how Thranduil slipped back into bed with Bard again, or how he took his hand while they slept.

And they didn’t talk about how close they stood or about how often they brushed against each other or about how they both knew that they smiled more when they were together or about how they were bother secretly glad they had been forced into each other’s bodies because it meant they’d had an excuse for themselves to spend time together.

Then it had been a fortnight of being in each other’s bodies with this thing that had been between them since the beginning evolving and both of the stoically not talking about, when they finally talked about it, well, acknowledged it at least.

They were lying in bed, the bed that they had been sharing for the past week and a half, they still had no clue how to get back into their own bodies, had even been talking about maybe having to tell their peoples what had happened so that they could rule properly again.

But for the moment it was the middle of the night, Thranduil’s cold had finally subsided and they were lying close, no pretences about not holding each other while they slept, even if they hadn’t talked about it.

Bard had thought Thranduil was asleep when he heard him whisper into the darkness, probably thinking Bard was asleep.

“What I wouldn’t give to be allowed to kiss you.” Came the whisper.

“You can kiss me, well, you can’t kiss me right now it would be too much like kissing myself.” Bard answered sleepily, tried brain taking a moment to catch up. “Wait, what?” He semi exclaimed, realising that one of them – Thranduil – had finally addressed it, however much he might have thought Bard was asleep.

“I want to kiss you, I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time.” Thranduil sighed, head on Bard’s chest as he preferred to sleep – well Bard’s head on Thranduil’s chest, this would never not be confusing.

“So have I.” Bard admitted quietly, for some reason it was easier to say into the dark.

“Can I?” Thranduil asked, and Bard could feel him lift his head.

One part of Bard was telling him it was weird because it was his own face, but something else was pointing out that it was also dark, and what if they never got their bodies back? Bard didn’t want to go his whole life without kissing him, he didn’t want to go five more seconds without kissing him.

So he didn’t.

He leant down and found his mouth in the dark, kissing him sweet and deep and never wanting it to end.

They fell asleep like that, refusing to stop kissing even when sleep finally took them, lips still pressed together and completely wrapped up in each other.

 

Bard was once again woken up by Thranduil, maybe sharing a bed with such a drama queen was a bad idea.

There was a loud yelp beside him before he fell off the bed with a loud thump, taking all the covers with him.

“Thraan, why?” Bard whined unhappily into his pillow that he had now stuffed over his face. “Just once, _once_ , I would appreciate you not waking me up.”

“Bard, Bard open your eyes.” Thranduil demanded, clambering back onto the bed and trying to wrestle the cushion away from his face, but Bard wouldn’t give in clinging onto it for dear life.

Well, until Thranduil decided to play dirty and straddled his waist, very deliberately rubbing his ass over Bard’s crotch, allowing Thranduil to snatch away the pillow as he moaned.

“That was unfair you big tree.” Bard complained up at Thranduil.

Thranduil was straddling him. _Thranduil_.

Silvery hair falling around his beautiful face as he grinned down at Bard.

Bard surged up and brought Thranduil into a hard kiss, balling his hands in that silken hair and bringing him down on top of him.

Bard was very glad Thranduil didn’t look like him anymore, because there were some thing’s he wanted to do and a body he was rather keen to explore now that it wasn’t attached to him.

And they explored each other _thoroughly_.

 

They had no idea what had sent them back into their own bodies, or even really what on earth had happened. For a little while they wondered if it had been the kiss, but then, why ever would them kissing have reversed it? It must have just worn off…

 

Safely across middle earth, Gandalf snickered to himself.

Maybe now they were having actual sex, they could stop with the eye fucking while he was trying to talk.


	61. Tilda braids thranduil's hair into a beard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt :>  
> Thranduil is at Bards and they are just sitting aroung peacefully, Tilda practicing her braiding on Thranduils hair as so often, Bard dosing off on the bench and Thranduil completely immersed watching him; that is until Tilda starts giggling and Thranduil looks down and Tilda can barely speak: Ada, look, you have a beard! You're a dwarf! She has braided his hair to form a beard and Bard's awake now, laughing his ass off and thranduil is torn between amusement and indignation;
> 
> Rated: G

 

It was a relatively normal Sunday afternoon, and Thranduil could not quite believe his luck that this got to be a relatively normal afternoon for him, at least for now. Bard was dozing peacefully on the soft, cushioned bench, Sigrid was reading, Bain was practicing his writing at the table and Tilda was sat in Thranduil’s lap on the big comfy armchair happily braiding his hair.

Tilda had been getting very good at braiding, even managing to grasp most of the more complicated elven braids. But then, maybe Thranduil shouldn’t be so surprised, she was a tenacious little one and he could no longer sit down without her hopping up into his lap and asking permission to practice on his long hair. He could never say no to that little face smiling up at him.

Tilda was always very careful not to pull his hair and now that she was really just practicing not learning, it was very easy to forget what she was doing. More than once Thanduil had looked down to find her curled asleep against his chest, increasingly neat braid sat to the side as she snuggled down against him. He would gently scoop her up, trying not to jostle her too much, and carry her upstairs to tuck her into bed with a little kiss to her forehead.

The first time she had called him ada, like it was the most natural thing in the world, neither Bard nor Thranduil had managed to keep a completely dry eye. And Thranduil still struggled to when any of the children called him that so easily, all three children shouting it at him and wrapping him in a huge group hug whenever he came back from Mirkwood, Bard joining in and squishing the kids between them, always managing to find his lips for a quick kiss as well.

For now he was doing well at focusing on what he had, not what he was going to lose.

Thranduil loved watching Bard while he slept. He was just so peaceful, face relaxed, breathing slow and steady, surrounded by his family. With a snicker he remembered the time Bard had woken him up with a fairly high pitched shriek (that he still tried to deny) before flailing off the bed backwards and landing in a very ungraceful pile on the floor. Once Thranduil had ascertained that Bard was in fact okay he couldn’t stop his own peals of laughter – waking up the entire household as he did – apparently Bard hadn’t known elves sleep with their eyes open.

He wondered what Bard was dreaming about; them, his kids, the future, the past to nothing at all. By not he knew the signs that Bard was dreaming of dragons and battle, knew to wake him up, but right now Bard only looked peaceful, face smooth as he smiled and mumbled in his light slumber.

Thranduil was pulled away from watching his Dragonslayer sleep when a loud round of giggles erupted from the little girl on his lap. He looked down to see what Tilda – practically vibrating in his lap with laughter – had suddenly found so funny, but the moment he looked it became quite clear.

“Ada, look, you have a beard! You're a dwarf!” She practically squealed in mischievous delight between loud giggles.

 While Thranduil was watching Bard she had managed to tie his hair together in what was actually a pretty impressive weave of braids under his chin to make it look as though he had a beard.

Thranduil was torn for a few moments between indignation – he was most definitely _not_ a dwarf – and amusement.

But Sigrid and Bain were joining in with their little sister giggling loudly at him which had woken up Bard who took one look at him and promptly joined in in laughing his ass off.

And well, Thranduil could only listen to his family laughing and smiling for a few moments until he was helpless against his own giggles, scooping up Tilda and tickling her in revenge.

Their happiness was infectious.

And Thranduil was happily infected


	62. Awkward first time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I have a prompt for you. Bard and Thranduil's awkward first time. Who tops/bottoms is up to you, but I just want an awkward first time since neither of them has had sex with another man before (at least, in this au they haven't). I'd like it to be in Tolkien's universe, but I guess it could be modern au if you want.
> 
> Rated: e

 

They had been together for almost two months the first time they had sex. Now Bard had it all planned out, it would be all romance and murmured confessions of love, there were even candles. But that was decidedly not how it went.

 

They were sat on the small sofa in Bard’s house in Dale, sipping on the wine Thranduil had brought with him – because he was a massive wine snob that refused to drink anything that wasn’t out of his own personal stores. Bard had been hoping that tonight would be the night, so when Thranduil took his glass from him, placed both of them on the little table before leaning over Bard and starting to kiss him.

At first the kiss was languid, deep, almost lazy. Thranduil stretching himself out and draping himself on top of Bard, silvery hair falling around them like a curtain, in a way that created their own little world.

Bard ran his tongue along the seam of Thranduil’s lips and his mouth easily opened for his tongue, delving into the Elvenking’s mouth. He tasted like rich wine and something that Bard had come to think of as just _Thranduil._ Thranduil moaned as Bard sucked on his tongue, rolling his hips down just slightly as the kissing grew more heated, fiercer, Bard biting down and tugging on Thranduil’s bottom lip just the way he knew drove Thranduil crazy.

He moved from the elf’s lips, moving his attention up the pale column of his neck, pushing his hair out of the way and nipping at Thranduil’s earlobe before sitting up slightly to run his lips and teeth over the pointed tip. Thranduil whimpered, rocking his hips down against Bard’s, he could feel Thranduil quickly getting harder on every pass of his teeth. Bard had discovered a little while ago that elven ears were particularly sensitive and had since been taking full advantage.

“Maybe we should move this to the bed?” Bard murmured into his ear, flicking his tongue along the shell.

“Agreed.” Thranduil practically gasped back as Bard bit down on his ear and rolled his hips up.

They managed to stand up without actually needing to stop kissing, starting to rid each other of clothes as Bard backed Thranduil towards his bedchamber.

When Thranduil’s legs finally hit the bed Bard pushed him down before giving him an indulgent kiss and lighting the candles he had laid out earlier. When he returned to Thranduil his smile was soft and full of love as he pulled Bard down on top of him, slipping each other out of their remaining items of clothes.

Bard kissed across Thranduil smooth chest, locking his mouth of one of his peaked nipples and sucking on it lightly. Thranduil moaned softly and let his legs fall open further, making it easier for Bard to settle between them as moved his attentions to his lover’s other nipple.

Thranduil laced a hand into Bard’s hair and brought him back up to his mouth, pulling him into a searing kiss, both of them starting to gasp and pant as their dicks slid against each other. Thranduil reached over into the bedside table, bringing out a vial of clear liquid that Bard had not known was there.

“When…?” Bard asked, taking it from him.

“About a week ago. I did not want us to be unprepared.” Thranduil answered a little breathlessly in between kisses.

“I’ve, uh, I’ve never…” Bard trailed off a little awkwardly. He knew the basic theory, but he had never been with a man before, he had met his wife while they were still young, and since her death until Thranduil had come along Bard hadn’t even been interested in anyone.  

“Neither have I.” Thranduil responded, and Bard wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or if he would like at least one of them to know what they were doing.

They continued kissing and when Bard moved his hand back to tease his fingers over Thranduil’s hole he gasped into Bard’s mouth.

“Okay?” Bard asked, and Thranduil nodded quickly biting his lip.

So Bard uncorked the little vial and carefully slicked up one of his fingers, kissing Thranduil as he slid it gently past his hole.

“Okay?” Bard checked again as a result of the odd expression on Thranduil’s face.

“Yes, it just feels a little strange.” Thranduil admitted, shifting his hips slightly.

He assured Bard that he wanted to carry on so he started moving his finger inside of Thranduil, gently stretching him before pressing in a second slick finger, causing Thranduil to wince very slightly, but once again he insisted it was fine and for Bard to keep going.

Bard poured some of the liquid on his other hand so he could stroke Thranduil while he stretched him slowly, keeping up his pleasure which had been wilting slightly. He was a little worried that this wasn’t going to be enjoyable for Thranduil, maybe they’d have to try it the other way around next time if it wasn’t, although he was fairly sure it was supposed to feel good, maybe he wasn’t doing it right.

Bard made absolutely sure Thranduil was ready before he pressed in a third finger, and he didn’t wince this time but he was clearly still finding the foreign sensation a little odd.

Well, that is until Bard changed the angle and brushed his fingers across something that made Thranduil jerk and moan loudly. Which was _great_ except for the fact that his sudden movement knocked the vial out of Bard’s hand and on to the bed. They both looked at it, Bard starting to laugh into Thranduil’s shoulder, three fingers still buried in his ass, but his laughing to jostling his fingers and making Thranduil whine again.

“Oh my god I don’t even care just do that again.” Thranduil panted and Bard obliged, finding that spot again and making Thranduil writhe under him. “Come on. Please.” Thranduil begged, thrusting his hips against Bard’s fingers in earnest.

“We spilt the oil, there’s not much left.” Bard pointed out, even though he didn’t think he’d ever been harder in his life, his neglected cock dribbling precome onto the sheets. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“It’s be fine. I need you now, please.” Thranduil whined, and Bard could never deny him anything.

So he carefully slicked himself up as best he could with what was left and started pushing slowly in. Immediately he could tell that Thranduil was uncomfortable again so he still his hips, only the head of his dick actually inside.

“We don’t have to.” He reassured, peppering kisses over Thranduil’s strained expression.

“No I want to.” Thranduil insisted, but Bard wasn’t sure, maybe they should have spent more nights getting Thranduil ready.

Bard went to pull out but Thranduil locked his legs stubbornly around his waist.

“You’re not enjoying this.” Bard pointed out awkwardly, very aware of Thranduil’s wilting erection.

“Don’t care, I will.” Thranduil insisted, trying to pull Bard deeper despite his own discomfort.

Bard stopped him and very, very slowly eased his way in, wrapping his hand back around Thranduil’s dick and stroking him in all the ways he liked, squeezing around the head and rubbing his palm over the tip, slowly getting Thranduil hard again.

By some miracle Bard managed to keep his hips still as Thranduil adjusted, until he gave a little nod and Bard started moving. Thranduil started moaning lightly, encouraging Bard to start snapping his hips faster and promptly slipping out making them both groan in frustration. It happened twice more before Bard managed to stay seated and there were funny squelching noises that come hand in hand with sex but _gods_ the feeling of Thranduil around him was driving Bard insane and Thranduil was moaning in earnest and it was getting really, really good and he could tell that both of them were really, really close and then Thranduil threw his hand to the side with a particularly loud moan and knocked over one of the candles.

“Shit.” Bard said pulling out, leaving Thranduil whimpering and dragging his hands over his face in another frustrated groan as Bard lurched over to the candle that had successfully set the bedside table alight.

Bard ran across the room, grabbed the jug of water he kept there and dumped it over the little fire, ripping the nearest pillow right out from behind Thranduil’s head to smother the last licks of flame. He collapsed back onto the bed with his face in Thranduil’s stomach and they lasted approximately ten seconds before they were both wheezing with laughter.   

“By the gods I love you, aren’t I supposed to be the clumsy one?” Bard practically cackled moving his face into Thranduil’s shoulder and they laughed into each other’s necks.

“I love you too my brave firefighting hero.” Thranduil snorted back, both of them shaking against each other through the laughter.

“Good to know I lit your fire.” Bard deadpanned before waggling his eyebrows ridiculously and getting one of the other pillows smacked over his head by Thranduil before they both dissolved back into laughter.

Eventually they caught their breath but not before their laughter had gone to silent gasps and they both felt like they’d done a thousand sit ups. Completely out of oil they ended up sucking each other off and coming almost simultaneously down each other’s throats before settling down together and falling asleep with Thranduil tucked against Bard’s chest and having to share a pillow as the other one was wet and a little charred.

 

It had been awkward and clumsy and neither of them had much idea what they were doing, and the love confessions had been laughed instead of murmured and the candles had almost caused a fire.

And Bard wouldn’t change a damn thing about any of it.

 


	63. Tilda and her ada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I think a lot abut Tilda thinking Thranduil is just the coolest and like mimicking him. Like she walks around, adorably giving out orders and she stands really tall next to him, mimicking his expressions.   
> So Thranduil has a little crown made for her so she can match him. 
> 
> Rated: G

 

Nothing put a smile on Bard’s face faster than watching the way Tilda followed Thranduil around, looking up at him and talking about him to Bard like he was just the coolest thing ever, recounting what he had done that day as if Bard hadn’t been there.

“Da, da!” She’d shout jumping up into Bard’s arms and planting a kiss on his cheek. “Did you see! Ada let me stay with him while people were coming to see him, he let me sit on the throne with him and everything!” She squealed happily.

“Yeah? That’s great darlin’.” Bard smiled back, even though they both knew he had been there with them, smiling the whole time.

“Yeah! And tomorrow ada says he will teach me how to do the braids, but da, he says he’ll let me do it in his hair! Oh! And, and, he says he’s got a surprise for me tomorrow!” She reeled off excitedly, squirming around in Bard’s arms as she gestured wildly practically vibrating with excitement as Bard felt  like his heart was about to explode out of his chest.

“He’s the best.” Bard smiled, pressing a kiss onto his daughter’s cheek.

“Yeah, he is.” Tilda agreed solemnly making Bard bark out a laugh at her serious tone. “’Cept maybe you da!” She added happily, hugging his neck and jumping out of his arms and scurrying off just as quickly as she had landed there.

It became far rarer to see Thranduil without his little shadow than anything else. Tilda walking around holding herself as tall as he little frame would allow next to Thranduil, she was even trying to mimic the way he walked, trying to master that elven way of gliding around.

Whenever he was looking for Tilda, he need only ask where Thranduil was, and vice versa, always being greeted with his little girl head-butting his stomach as she ran to hug him and a deep kiss from Thranduil, before she hopped up – not liking being so much smaller than her dads – and told him about every second that he hadn’t been present for. Bard vividly remembers seeing Tilda on Thranduil’s shoulders once or twice so she could reach things for herself.

The surprise from Thranduil was that he had had made a pretty elven dress for her, all the moss greens and soft browns that was traditional of the Mirkwood elves, but then she all but refused to take it off. So naturally Thranduil solved this by giving her another dress so she could alternate, but the second one was done in the style of his own royal gowns; it was her absolute favourite.

She wandered around with him wherever he went, and Bard would be worried about her irritating him if it wasn’t for the fact that he knew exactly how much Thranduil adored her, scooping her up when she finally tried herself out from following him all day and tucking her into bed, happily telling her stories if she woke up as he put her down to sleep, sending her back off with the melodic tone of his voice.

He got her a little circlet to wear, and Bard would accuse him of spoiling her if it weren’t for her absolute delight each time, and the way she never took them off or treated his gifts with anything but the upmost care, she never became complacent about his gifts.

Bard laughed to himself, sharing a ridiculously soft smile with Thranduil who heard his laugh when Tilda puffed out her chest and started giving out orders, but always with a little ‘please if you don’t mind’ tagged on the end because she just couldn’t quite boss people around completely like her ada.

“Well go on, do as the princess says.” Thranduil would say to his elves, and off they would go, enjoying and more than a little confused at seeing such a new side to their king.

“Princess of Dale.” Tilda had beamed, climbing up to sit with Thranduil, tucking herself in next to him and copying his pose on the throne, right down to his facial expressions.

“Well, and princess of Mirkwood I should hope.” Thranduil had responded easily, voice fond and nothing to suggest he was joking.

“Really!”

“Of course, _pen-neth_.” Thranduil smiled down at her and she jumped up and threw her arms around his neck and burying her face in his shoulder, Thranduil’s arms coming up to squeeze her tight and kissing the top of her head.

A few weeks later, when Tilda sat up with him on the throne, Thranduil slipped a specially made crown onto her head, identical to his, right down to the changing seasons.

Bard didn’t think he’d ever seen Tilda so happy, or Thranduil when he looked over at Bard.

But Bard _knew_ he had never been so happy.


	64. Bard thinks Thranduil is just an asshole until he sees him with his kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard is put off by Thranduil being an arrogant asshole, but then he sees him with his kids and realises that there might be more to the smug Elvenking.
> 
> Rated: G

 

Now, Bard wasn’t blind, and therefore he was unfortunately well aware of just how attractive the Elvenking was. Like, _painfully_ attractive. All long lines and flawless porcelain skin and silver-silk hair and ice blue eyes and a melodic deep voice.

And a complete _bastard_.

Really it was inexcusable, Bard didn’t care how long he’d been a king or that he seemed to set Bard apart for some inexplicable reason, the way he treated people was just derisive. And Bard was not a fan.

His arrogance was irritating and his smirk was infuriating and Bard felt sympathy for every single person who attempted to talk to Thranduil, he wasn’t even subtle about rolling his eyes. So even though Bard may be all too aware of his strong jaw and slight pout of his lips, his personality was doing more than enough to keep Bard away, well away.

Or he would, if Thranduil would just leave him be.

Honestly it was ridiculous, everywhere he went before the battle, afterwards in for the following _month_ because Thranduil was still sticking around in Dale. It put Bard in a particularly difficult situation because he really was unfathomably grateful for Thranduil’s help, they were not going to survive without it, he knew that. But did that really mean that Thranduil needed to spend every free moment pestering him?

He had better things to do than spend each second being summoned by the Elvenking – and this persistent ‘summoning’ and demanding of things wasn’t helping Bard’s opinion of him one bit. He just wished he was a little less distractingly attractive. Occasionally Bard found himself staring at his lips while he spoke, but then it wasn’t that much of a problem because it never took Thranduil long to do something that reminded Bard that he was a complete asshole.

Bard had been a little worried that his not so subtle distaste for the way the Elvenking behaved would get him in trouble, have Thranduil turning his back on them, but if anything he found Bard’s refusal to put up with his crap amusing, challenging, as if he liked Bard because of it not in spite of it.

Also, Bard could swear Thranduil was winding him up sometimes. He’d be especially dismissive, and Bard would frown and tell him off a little, and the bastard would smirk like that was what he had been aiming for. He definitely meant whatever he said, but it was like he played it up in front of Bard just to get a rise out of him.

He definitely was an asshole, he didn’t treat people like equals, because he genuinely seemed to believe that he was better than everyone else, and no amount of offered wine and side looks were going to change the fact that he was an asshole who Bard was refusing to like, no matter how attractive he found him.

So Thranduil had been hanging around in Dale for about a month now, and to be fair, his elves were speeding the restoration of Dale up tenfold, not to mention the supplies they kept stocked up. And Bard had to give Thranduil some credit for sticking around and helping them – although it did worry Bard that he wasn’t exactly sure what his motivation was or how he was ever going to repay him. Was Thranduil enough of a dick to start demanding reparations at a later date? It worried him not knowing what his game was, having to suffice with just being grateful, and he really was grateful. He just didn’t trust Thranduil, he always looked far too smug.

Which is why when Bard came home one day to find Thranduil already sat in his living room surrounded by his children, he got a little defensive.

“What are you doing here?” Bard realised this was not even remotely polite, in fact it was quite rude, as Sigrid’s disapproving expression assured him, but still, the elven bastard better not be saying anything mean to his children. There was a line that Bard would not tolerate being crossed.

“Da!” Sigrid scolded.

Thranduil opened his mouth to speak but at that moment, Tilda came bouncing into the room and jumped up onto Thranduil’s lap, passing him one of her brushes and wiggling around to sit on his knees in a prime spot for Thranduil to start carefully running the brush through it. Which is exactly what he did.

Bard was pretty sure he looked like he was doing a bad impression of a fish as he stood there gaping.

He was just unable to entirely compute what was going on in front of him.

Thranduil was brushing his daughter’s hair, and his smile was completely genuine as he brushed her hair. And then he started chatting to Sigrid and Bain about their days and the thing was, he actually sounded like he cared about what they had to say. Sure enough as they were speaking he listened carefully, not a lick of the boredom or derision or sneer that was usually present when someone was speaking to him.

Bard watched as his children chattered away to the Elvenking who suddenly looked so very soft, all of his usual sharpness worn away by the children happily talking to him. Asking him things with that genuine curiosity children had, wondering excitedly about the woodland realm and whether or not they would be able to visit.

“Well that depends on your father. If he chose to bring you along on a business trip, I certainly would not object in fact I would encourage it.” He said with a smile to the children and suddenly Bard was struck with something, a piece of information that now spawned a little realisation.

Thranduil’s only son, Legolas had left him just after the battle, and Bard knew his wife had passed long ago. He understood what it was like to lose his wife, he couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to watch one of his children walk away from him as well, and by no fault of his own, it seemed to just be a decision Legolas had made, not because of an argument between them.

Bard wondered how long it had been since Thranduil had had contact with a child. And Bard’s kids were so friendly, they always had been, open and kind, Tilda being her usual excitable self, bouncing around on his knees as he told her all about the elves.

Bard felt his heart soften for the Elvenking. He wondered how long he had been lonely for. How long he had been a father without a child, or at least a child like his, free and cheerful and easy with their affection.

“Are you planning on continuing to stand there with your mouth hanging open?” Thranduil asked him with a raised eyebrow, and there was the asshole Bard knew.

“What are you doing here?” Bard asked again, regaining himself, but his tone couldn’t have been more different than when he had asked before.

“I came to see you, you weren’t home yet but Sigrid invited me in and Tilda started to complain that you don’t know how to do her hair properly, although she assured me that you do try your best, before very politely asking me if I would mind doing it.” Thranduil explained, like any of this made any sense whatsoever.

Bard was finding these two different versions of the elf difficult to reconcile. He was also finding it increasingly difficult not to find the Elvenking attractive.

Bard watched as Thranduil finished the neat little plait in his daughter’s hair.

“Okay guys, time for bed I’m afraid.” Bard said, and it really was past Tilda’s bedtime, if not quite Sigrid’s and Bain’s but they seemed to take pity on him and agree to go up to bed early toniht without a fight.

“Thank you mister Thranduil.” Tilda smiled, feeling her plait and throwing her arms around his neck to give him a big hug, and Bard watched as Thranduil’s face just melted completely giving her a little squeeze back before she hopped down and skipped off up to bed – but not before giving Bard his own night time hug and kiss.

“Goodnight!” She called happily on her way to bed.

“Goodnight, _pen-neth_.” Thranduil said quietly with an impossibly soft smile, and Bard knew he was a goner.

They stayed there just looking at each other for a little while, and Thranduil was giving him this look that was just full of meaning and finally something occurred to Bard, Thranduil was sticking around so adamantly and helping them out so thoroughly because he liked Bard.

He’d also been pulling his damn pigtails.

Bard grabbed a couple of goblets and filled them with some wine, passing one of them to Thranduil, letting his fingers brush across Thranduil’s as he took it. Thranduil seemed to get the meaning, smiling that infuriating smug smile at him, but there was something else lying there as well, something genuine and oft underlying it all.

“You’re still an asshole.” Bard grumbled sitting down on the sofa next to the Elvenking who was now smiling that smirk of his again.

 

Bard kissed it right off his face.

   

 


	65. Thranduil makes a difficult decision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thranduil takes some time to make a difficult decision 
> 
> Rated: G

 

Thranduil had noticed, before the battle, the looks Bard would give him, long, considering, appreciative in more ways than one.

The looks had continued as Thranduil stayed with a large number of elves to help with the rebuilding of Dale – really there was no chance of the surviving men of the lake making it through the winter unless they received assistance, and Thranduil was hardly going to leave it to the dwarves.

Eventually, Thranduil noticed the looks subtly changing, they were longer, more tender, they lingered. And Thranduil honestly found it hard not to send them back, sometimes he probably failed, it was difficult, knowing what Bard wanted and constantly stopping himself from giving it in return, he couldn’t, or at least, he would need to be sure before he did that, before he signed himself up for that future.

But when Bard smiled at him, open and warm in a way that hadn’t been directed at Thranduil so easily and genuinely in a very long time. It was difficult to say no to that. To someone like Bard, so kind and strong and handsome.

Thranduil liked the way he pulled back only half his hair, and the streaks of grey that ran through it, the ruggedly handsome features of his face were unlike anything Thranduil had ever known, and he wanted to get to know them more. Bard’s rough hands, a testament to a life of hard work, and that despite his hard life, his face held something so very soft.

A man that could slay a dragon and sing his daughter to sleep in the same day was not something Thranduil could resist easily.

So he couldn’t help himself as he spent increasingly long evenings tucked away in his tent with Bard, or even in Bard’s semi-repaired new home. He couldn’t help the way he sometimes leant into the Dragonslayer, something about him just drew him in helplessly, just like the lilt of his voice could make him smile and the squeeze of his hand could make him melt. He couldn’t help the way he grew more and more fond of his children.

He could fall in love with this man, he could fall in love with this whole family.

If he wasn’t already anyway.

Bard must have sensed it one day, because as they were taking their wine, talking in hushed tones and sitting too close and yet not close enough, Bard leaned in and brushed their lips together ever so gently, Thranduil was helpless but to sigh into it, to let Bard’s lips move against his kissing him so sweetly Thranduil could feel his heart in his throat by the time he pulled away.

And then reality came back to him, all the reasons why he hadn’t done this before, all the reasons why he had been desperately trying not to let himself fall so easily into this, into Bard.

“I– ” Thranduil started with a sharp intake of breath as the reality crashed around him. “I need some time, to think. For me, I – ”

“It’s okay. I understand. Take as much time as you need, no matter what you decide, know that I realise this is far from simple.” Bard told him gently, softly tucking a loose lock of Thranduil’s hair back behind his ear and letting his hand stroke affectionately down the side of Thranduil’s face.

And what was Thranduil supposed to do with that? Bard was  _perfect_  the words he said the way he spoke them. Thranduil felt himself falling into another kiss.

He felt himself falling in a lot of ways.

He left the next morning, he needed the space and time to think. This was not simple, this was anything but simple. Thranduil had been through heartbreak before, had a part of his soul ripped away with the death of his wife. He needed to know if he would be able to handle that again.

This was far from simple.

And Bard had understood that, told him to take the time he needed to think about it.

Thranduil was scared,  _terrified_ , of how hard he could fall for Bard. That barely knew each other, well that wasn’t true, they knew each other well, startlingly well, they clicked. And it had only been a few months. Thranduil couldn’t imagine what feelings would grow between them if the relationship was allowed to bloom, flourish into something new.

They would only get the most fleeting time together. Of this Thranduil was painfully aware. He also knew what the last years they shared would look like.

He didn’t know if he could if he could watch Bard slowly dying before him.

Thranduil wasn’t sure if Bard’s children would soften the blow or make it worse, make the knife twist further or help heal the wound.

So Thranduil thought, spent his days thinking, whether he should do it, it was a difficult decision to make. It was not simple. The more he thought about Bard’s smile, his heart, the more he thought it would be worth it. That Bard would be worth it.

But elves and mortal’s had different perceptions of the passage of time. And Thranduil didn’t notice the seasons coming and going. Or he noticed it, too connected to the forest not to, but he failed to realise what it meant, after all, what was a single year to an elf? What was ten?

What was thirty?

Thranduil will always remember the day the letter and package came, it didn’t dawn on him what had happened until he noticed the shaky script, until the words started to compute to him. That this was no normal correspondence.

He didn’t realise what he had done until it was too late.

 

_My dear Thranduil,_

 

_I knew when you never returned to Dale that you must have made your decision, and I accepted that with the respect you deserve, the thoughtfulness that I promised. And I do not regret that, but I would regret not telling you that my heart was happily yours, and I never regretted it for a second for there was never one more worthy and I hope with all my soul that you did not feel you needed to stay away to spare my feelings._

 

_I missed you, but I assure you that I understood, and never once resented you, I never could, your friendship has always meant far too much to me to allow such a thing._

 

_I leave you the emeralds of Griron, I remember your love of pretty jewels, even though the most beautiful jewel of all was, is, always you._

 

_I know it will not be long for me now, my final days now looming. I hope that you considered us friends, for I always did._

 

_Forever yours,_

_Bard_

 

Thranduil felt his knees give way as he read, crumpling to the floor, clutching at the letter refusing to believe the words.

It could not be possible, he remembered their kiss like it was yesterday,  _how_ , could it have been thirty years.  _How_  could he have let it happen?!

But he knew how. He knew exactly how. Elves did not feel the passage of time in the same way mortals did, he had not realised it was slipping through his fingers like fine sand, never to be recovered.

He had been going to go back to Dale, he had made his decision not a few days prior that Bard was worth it.

And he had let him die thinking he was not.

The decision he had been pondering for so long had been made for him, without his consent or realisation, and Thranduil knew in that moment, without a shadow of a doubt that it had been the wrong one.

 

It had been the wrong one.


	66. Valentine's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Valentine's day fluff for my beautiful Valentine [Hannibalsketches](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalsketches/profile) <3

 

Bard was working away in his little bakery, knowing that obviously they were going to need more cupcakes and other sweet things than usual today as people bought them for their significant other. Sigrid was in charge of icing names onto the cakes, Bain had the till covered and Tilda helped him in the kitchen.

He didn’t usually enlist them on the weekend, he and Sigrid doing fine alone, but today was Valentine’s Day and they knew they would need the help, plus the young woman who usually watched them had a special day planned.

The shop was busy, but his kids were on top of it, and if he found himself leaving the kitchen and glancing across the hall to the flower shop then that was a complete coincidence and had nothing to do with the beautiful blonde that owned and ran it and everything to do with checking on his kids.

Okay maybe it was fifty fifty.

He was tall and elegant, his porcelain skin perfectly matched his cascade of silvery blonde hair, his ice blue eyes were set off by dark eyebrows, the smoothness of his cheek were contrasted with a strong jaw and high cheekbones. He was utterly stunning.

He smiled and raised a hand as Thranduil’s eyes found his across the hall, they’d been communicating through smiles and little waves for months now. And no matter what Sigrid said, he had found his name out through completely legitimate means (which was Sigrid going into the shop under the guise of needed a corsage and finding it out for him). She had smirked at him for nearly as week.

Kind of like how she was smirking at him now.

“You know da, you could go over there, and I don’t know, do something radical like talk to him.” She grinned at him. “No but seriously, you to have been eyeing each other longingly enough and it is getting a little tedious. Besides, he looks like he is having a bit of a bad day.”

“What?” Bard asked, whipping round to take a better look at the shop, and indeed, Thranduil was swamped and looking a little frazzled, they may be busy today, but Thranduil was practically overrun.

“Also,” Sigrid continued. “He keeps looking over here longingly, it’s getting a bit sad.”

Bard huffed, but he had been slowly working up the courage to ask the beautiful man out on a date, besides, he didn’t like the idea that Thranduil’s day was anything less than perfect, someone should be spoiling him completely. And Bard didn’t like the thought of anyone other than himself spoiling him.

Well, Bard thought to himself, he could rectify that. And if his daughter’s observations were right, which to be honest they usually were, his plan was unlikely to be unwelcome. Besides, he would rather be gently rejected than not even try to brighten the other man’s day.

Bard formulated his plan, and when the lunchtime rush finished, he ducked out of the shop and over to Thranduil’s little flower shop, which for the first time that day, didn’t have a massive queue, the red head and other blonde (who Bard was fairly sure was Thranduil’s son) who worked there with him covering two groups of customers, leaving a straight route to Thranduil at the till.

Which was exactly what he had been waiting for. Thranduil looked at him a little surprised and with a shy smile coming onto his face as Bard rushed up to the counter.

“I need some flowers.” Bard said hurriedly, and the expression on Thranduil’s face dropped a little.

“Forget about your significant other?” Thranduil asked trying for teasing but to Bard’s ears it sounded a little crestfallen.

“Something like that.” Bard replied, trying to keep up the semi-frantic charade he was playing and to stop the big smile from taking over his face.

“Well they are very lucky. What is their favourite flower?” Thranduil inquired, returning as best he could to a mask of professionalism, but Bard could still tell he was a little disappointed, Bard grinned internally.

“I have no idea, what’s yours? You look like you have great taste in flowers.” Bard asked, tone just teetering on flirtatious, not wanting to tip Thranduil off yet.

“I like wildflowers, bound together in a bouquet they just seem so much more natural, less forced than things like roses.” Thranduil explained, looking a little dejected and showing him a beautiful selection of flowers that looked like they had come straight from the woodland floor.

“They’re beautiful, although nothing could be as beautiful as the person they are for.” Bard smiled softly. “Could you make me up a bouquet?”

“Of course.” Thranduil answered, he didn’t seem to want to meet bard’s eye anymore.

But even though he looked like his day had gotten infinitely worse, he carefully brought together an array of flowers, the colours of the winding together perfectly into the most natural looking bouquet of Bard had ever seen.

“Beautiful.” Bard almost breathed, as Thranduil carefully let him inspect it.

“Although not as beautiful as who they are intended for, I’m sure.” Thranduil added wistfully.

“Not even close.” Bard smiled back, looking at Thranduil, and honestly, nothing would ever even come close.

Thranduil gave a heart-hearted, melancholy smile back as he turned to the till.

“That will be £17.99.”

Bard handed over a twenty and as Thranduil sorted out his change he pulled out the little card he had written earlier and nestled it in the little clip in the flowers made to hold a message.

“Is there anything else?” Thranduil asked, as he passed the change across, both of them letting their hands slide together more than was strictly necessary.

“Just one thing.” Bard smiled mischievously, Thranduil raised a curious eyebrow.  

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” Bard grinned, passing the flowers back over to Thranduil. “I hear they’re your favourite.” He then jumped up slightly, using his hand to hold him up as he leant across the counter, placed a quick little kiss on Thranduil’s smooth cheek and scampered out the door.

He didn’t look back until he was back in his bakery, and when he did he saw Thranduil with a hand on his cheek were his lips had been just moments previously, and a light blush dusting across his smiling face.

Sigrid grinned at him, giving him a thumbs up from where she was icing as Bard slipped back into the kitchen, unable to shake his own smile.

A few hours later, as things started to wind down for the day, pressure moving from the bakeries and chocolate shops to the restaurants, Bain poked his head into the kitchen.

“Da, there’s a customer who wants to speak with you.” He told him, before ducking back out.

Bard brushed off his hands, Tilda mirroring his movements, knowing she wasn’t allowed to stay in the kitchen on her own, far too many hot things for Bard’s liking. Although he wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted her out there either, the only time anyone ever wanted to see the manager was when they wanted to complain, bitch, shout or just be generally rude about something.

But as they ducked out of the kitchen, instead of an angry customer, Bard was faced with a smirking Thranduil.

“And how can I help you.” Bard asked with faux-innocence as he walked around the counter to stand just a meter or so in front of him. He had a feeling he wasn’t going to want to counter in between them in a moment.

“I was hoping you could give me a recommendation for one of your lovely cakes or pastries.” Thranduil explained, leaning against the side of the counter with a twinkle in his blue eyes.

“Well, I have a rather large sweet tooth, so I would recommend one of the buttercream cupcakes.” Bard answered, grinning at Thranduil.

“Yes, that was what your lovely daughter assured me.” Thranduil replied, returning his grin as he passed over one of the pale blue boxes they sold cupcakes in.

Bard smiled as he opened the box, one of his favourite cupcakes resting inside, he had a goofy smile on his face as he looked at Thranduil who was biting his lip through his own smile.

Bard stepped forward and pulled him into a deep, sweet kiss, which is quite difficult when you’re both smiling, but it didn’t take long for them to both sink into it properly, Bard’s hands coming up to cradle that impossibly beautiful face as Thranduil’s own grabbed onto his shirt and apron.

There was a collective cheer from the other customers in the bakery, making Thranduil blush as they broke the kiss, biting his lip as if he was suddenly shy.

“When do you close?” Bard asked, fully intending to take Thranduil out somewhere, anywhere, maybe to the nearby forest with some of his cakes and a bottle of wine. He thought Thranduil would like that, and Sigrid didn’t mind watching Tilda occasionally, and she certainly wouldn’t this time if the way she was grinning was anything to go by.

“Whenever you do.” Thranduil smiled back.

 


	67. Bard Makes a Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this post](http://otpdisaster.tumblr.com/post/110731939970/person-b-knowing-theyre-undoubtedly-about-to-die)
> 
> Rated: T
> 
> (warnings in the end notes because it contains spoilers)

Bard was at an art show, Thran was supposed to be there with him, but Tilda wasn’t very well and they didn’t want to leave her. Bard would have stayed too, but as it was his art that was on show, so they had decided that he really should go to the little exhibition, even though he would be enjoying it much more if his husband was here with him.

Thranduil worried far too much whenever one of the kids got ill, even if it was really just a sniffle, maybe it was because he never seemed to get ill himself. He probably at this moment had Tilda tucked into his side and was telling her stories and brushing her hair until she fell asleep. He did the same for all of them whenever they got sick, including Bard even if he was a little old to be fussed over.

Bard couldn’t believe they had been married almost three years now, it would be their anniversary soon, he already had it all planned out. Sigird and Legolas had helped him work out how to get the letters to arrive to Thran on the day, guiding him to the airport where Bard will whisk him away on the holiday Thran has been fantasising about for almost a year now – Bard always insisting that they didn’t have the time, when really he already had it planned.

They had even managed to warn Thranduil’s underlings at work that he was going to be away for a week, his seconds at the company promising to hold down the fort, and with Tauriel agreeing to watch the kids for a week – well, mainly Tilda, the others could fend for themselves, but they adored her anyway so it wasn’t really an issue – they were all set.

It was in just over a fortnight, Bard practically vibrating with excitement every time he thought about it, not even for the holiday, just for how happy it was going to make Thranduil. But he was very careful not to give anything away, he wanted it to be a surprise.

As much as he might wish Thran was there with him, and however much more fun it might be with him there, he was still enjoying himself because it was still an exhibition of  _his_  art. Which was insane really, even if it was only a little thing, he still found it incredible.

His paintings were emotional, personal, they were of his family, his deceased wife, his kids, but mainly this collection was of his husband. It was a study in Thranduil. You wouldn’t know it was him unless you knew him, knew them. They were too up close or vague, painted with feeling and colour rather than detail.

He always smiled when people asked who the blonde in the paintings was, he would answer his husband, and they would smile softly back at him and walk off, the evidence of just how much Thranduil meant to him covering the walls, how much he loved him was written in every brush stroke.

But Bard had never found it easy to take compliments, he was amazed Thranduil stuck around at all at the beginning considering how long it took him to convince Bard that he did in fact find him attractive and wanted to be with him. So Bard started to find the wave of compliments and people telling him how talented he was a little uncomfortable, wanting to slip out for a couple of minutes for a quick breather.

He escaped out the back door and into the alley that backed onto the little gallery for a bit of air, he wouldn’t stay out here long, just long enough to catch his breath, take a beat, maybe he’d call Thranduil, check on the kids, hear his voice.

Bard shut his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall, taking long gulps of the cool outside air. Not a minute later he heard a click and something cold and metallic pressing against his thin shirt, he could feel the cool metal through the fabric.

It was a gun.

It all happened so quickly it was difficult to compute. The man, it had been a man, demanded his wallet, pressing the barrel of the gun against him. The man had looked frantic, like he was coming down from something. Probably needed the money for his next fix.

Bard had kept calm, not wanting to make that shaking finger squeeze the trigger. He handed over his wallet, very slowly taking it out from his pocket, adrenalin pumping through his veins, he could hear his blood thumping, but still he moved slowly. Knowing how quickly this could go wrong.

How quickly it did go wrong.

The man had demanded his rings, the one on his finger and the one around his neck. He couldn’t give them up. The one around his neck was his wife’s ring, it wasn’t even a precious metal they had been too poor at the time, but is was valuable to Bard beyond measure. The one on his ring finger Thranduil had had specially forged, there were engravings on it that Thranduil had carved himself. He couldn’t give it up.

He tried to explain. To make him realise that these things could never be replaced, that he could have his watch, his credit card number,  _the shirt off his back_  but not the rings.

But Bard had been raising his voice, he hadn’t panicked at the gun, but he was now at the thought of losing those rings. He was practically shouting in his desperation, it made the man panic too.

There was a crack.

Pain lanced through the lower right side of his abdomen, he brought his hand up and it was covered in blood. It was weird, like it wasn’t his or something.

The mugger was already running away.

Bard slumped against the wall sliding down slowly onto the floor. He though he’d be in more pain than he was, maybe it was the adrenaline, didn’t that stop you from feeling the extent of your injuries sometimes?

Either way, he was pretty sure he was dying.

Absently he knew he was losing a lot of blood, and that it was a pretty bad place to get shot, he was bleeding out. He should call for help.

Something told him it was already too late.

He pulled out his phone, he called Thranduil.

“Hello?” Came Thranduil’s low, melodic voice, Bard felt himself sigh and relax just hearing it.

“Hey babe.” Bard breathed, forcing himself to sound normal, like he didn’t have a bullet hole in his gut. Like he wasn’t bleeding to death on the street.

He just needed to hear his voice, one last time.

“Bard? Aren’t you supposed to be schmoozing with your fans?” Thranduil asked teasingly, Bard could hear the smile in his voice, and it made him smile despite everything.

“Yeah. How’s Tilda?” Bard asked, trying to keep his voice from going to thin. He wondered if there was any colour left in his face.

“She’s feeling a little better actually. Bard are you okay? Do you want to talk to her?” Thranduil offered, but it was late, she would be asleep, they’d all be asleep, even Sigrid and Legolas, it was just Thranduil waiting up to keep an eye on Tilda and stay up for Bard.

He always waited until he got home before he went to bed.

Bard worried he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Could you tell them all I love them.” Bard tried to keep his voice from wobbling, he was successful, a strange resigned calm had infected him, he felt like he was floating.

“Bard are you okay?” Thranduil’s concerned voice spoke, Bard could picture the exact expression on his face, small crinkle in his smooth brow, slight concerned tilt to his lips.

“Maybe I just miss you all.” Bard joked, knowing it would appease him, his voice felt weak to his ears, it probably just made Thranduil believe his statement.

“You always were pathetically mushy.” Thranduil grinned down the line, Bard couldn’t help but share in it, that happy, easy voice always made him smile.

“Look who’s talking.” He laughed back lightly, remembering last Valentine’s Day, Thranduil had made them a picnic and taken them out to the exact spot in the woods where they had first bumped into each other, where one year later Bard had proposed.

He hoped Thranduil would be able to go back there. It was a beautiful spot, it was their spot.

“Yeah well. Oh, I meant to say, next week Elrond has invited us round for dinner, I told him we would go.” Thranduil sighed, like he was some great martyr for agreeing to it, Bard could practically see his pout.

“Well you did make up excuses the last three times.” Bard pointed out, he couldn’t shake the fond smile on his lips, listening to Thranduil’s voice and normal conversation even as he sank back against the wall, unable to hold himself up at all, hand pressing down into his wound.

He could barely feel it anymore. Almost everything felt numb, except his heart. His heart could never feel numb with Thranduil so near.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on my side?” Thranduil mock-sulked down the phone, making Bard breath out another light laugh.

“I’m always on your side you massive drama queen.” Bard chuckled even though his vision was blurring at the edges, black spots littering across his sight.

“Yeah, I know.” Thranduil replied, voice soft and full of affection.

“Thran, I love you.” He had to say it, needed to know that he had said it, that Thranduil knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, then he could rest easy.

Then he could rest.

He was so tired all of a sudden.

“I know that too.” Thranduil smiled, Bard knew he was smiling, he hoped he would be able to smile again one day. A world without his smile would be a dull world.

“So much.” Bard could feel tears picking at his eyes, but you couldn’t hear it in his voice. He forced his voice to stay level, to not grow strained and thin and breathy, and to keep his tears silent.

“Ugh, stop being so sappy, you’re making me miss you and it’s barely been four hours.” Thranduil laughed. “Go back to your adoring fans, I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“I love you.” Bard said again, eyelids drooping.

“I love you too you big sap. Now go on, be sociable.” Thranduil shooed, voice laced with so much love it kept Bard’s smile in place, even as he felt himself slipping.

“Okay.” He breathed. He could go now.

“I’ll see you later my love, bye.” Thranduil said his farewell like he always did, affectionately, missing him, but knowing he was going to see him soon. They had never been apart for long since they started.

“Goodbye sweetheart.”

Bard heard Thranduil blow him a kiss down the line before he ended the call.

 

Bard smiled still, those were good last words.

 

He shut his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt post:   
> Person B knowing they’re undoubtedly about to die within the next few seconds, likely from the gaping wound they’re bleeding out from. Instead of calling for help, they phone Person A and carry on a casual conversation as if nothing is wrong, making sure to mention how much they love them before their time runs out.


	68. After the phone call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was asked by a lot of people both here and on tumbles to write a sequel to 'Bard Makes a Phone Call' so here it is :) 
> 
> I still won't usually do a sequel but /a lot/ of people asked for one so I obliged (srsly there was about 20 in total)
> 
> Rated: T

 

It had only been two hours after the call from Bard that had left him with a dopey smile that he got the second one. The one saying he was dead. That they needed him to come to the hospital and identify the body.

He hadn’t believed it, not until he had seen him, pale and unmoving and _dead_.

Not until they had told him he had been found with a bloody phone in his hand.

Why hadn’t he called for help?! Why would he pretend like he was fine, knowing that Thranduil was never going to be fine again.

His wife dying had almost destroyed him. Bard’s death was pushing him over the edge. He couldn’t handle it.

It had been two weeks. He had barely left his bed. He hadn’t spoken. He barely ate.

He felt bad, he knew his kids, their kids, needed him. That he was being a terrible father. Despondent and numb when they needed someone to hold onto. But he could barely force himself to move.

He hadn’t left his room, so he didn’t know that Sigrid had learnt only to cry when no one could see her, just like she did when her mother died. How she would hide herself in a corner or lock herself in the bathroom until she could pretend she was fine. He didn’t know that she had barely kept a meal down, or that she couldn’t sleep, he didn’t see the unhealthy toll this took on her. He didn’t see how she was trying to keep Tilda from drowning even as she herself drowned.

He didn’t know that Bain had almost ran away. Thinking he might be able to outrun it all, the he was down the street with a bag over his shoulder before Legolas caught up to him. He didn’t know how Bain had gone into the room where Bard kept his bow and had started breaking the ones he had been using to teach Bain, or how he almost tore apart his paintings of them, only to collapse exhausted, cradling the painting to his chest and staining it with tears.

He didn’t know that Legolas made Sigrid meals, tried to make her eat and that every time she didn’t or couldn’t keep it down he panicked, not knowing what he should do. He didn’t know that Legolas had kept Bain from running, that he sat with Bain and fixed every single bow he had broken, even sending some out that he couldn’t repair himself, softening Bain’s guilt, helping him to stand back up in more ways than one. He didn’t know that Legolas rocked Tilda to sleep every night, or that she wouldn’t let him leave, desperately needing someone to hold onto, with Legolas seeming to be the only one strong enough at the moment. But he was just pretending to cope.

Thranduil didn’t know that Legolas did all this, tried to support everyone even though he was breaking apart inside, even though it was only a matter of time until he crumbled as well. He didn’t know how it wore Legolas down every time he made Sigrid a meal only to forget his own. How he fixed Bain’s bows doubting he would ever be able to pick up the one Bard made him again. How every time he rocked Tilda to sleep, he was so worried about her he didn’t sleep himself.

He had lost his love twice and every child in this house had lost two parents.

They were broken. Thranduil should be holding them together. Instead he felt like he was fading away. He wasn’t sure if he cared. He wasn’t sure what he felt. If he felt anything at all.

He knew Arathon, Legolas’ best friend’s dad was doing what he should be. Making sure there is food in the house, taking them to school when they could face it, buying their lies that they were coping fine. Sigrid and Legolas were very good at pretending. He didn’t really know. And when he’d come to try and speak to Thranduil, he had been met with a wall of silence. He hadn’t meant to be rude, or seem cold, but he had nothing to say, he just had nothing left.

 

Or he thought he didn’t.

 

He was lying on his side in bed staring at the blank wall, he would have thought he would have run out of tears by now but they always seemed to find him. A constant, steady, silent track of salty water down his face. He was lying there as he always was when his door was pushed open. He didn’t even have the energy to look up and see who it was or ask to be left alone.

He heard the little sniffles of his littlest girl as she stood by his bed, she didn’t seem to know if she was allowed to speak, or even be there. Her inaction was enough, it send a jolt through him, something inside him woke up and he felt terrible. _God_ how could he have just abandoned them like that?

He didn’t speak as his shuffled back slightly on the big empty bed and lifted up his arm. Tilda didn’t even hesitate as she burrowed in next to him, balling her fists in his shirt and beginning to cry in earnest.

He held her tighter and tighter as time wore on. Somewhere along the way he found his voice again.

“It’s okay little one. I’m still here, you’ve still got me. I’m so sorry, I’m sorry I’ve not been here when I should’ve been, I’m sorry. Oh god I am so sorry. I love you so much.” He began to sob into her hair, once the words had started he couldn’t stop them.

It was cathartic.

He sat up against the headboard, holding and rocking his little girl in his arms, he could _feel_ again. And God was he angry at himself. He had been so selfish, they had never needed each other more, but instead he had locked himself away and scared his children even more.

He was going to fix that. He was going to hold onto his daughter for as long as she needed, then he was going to get up and they were going to get through it together.

Thranduil swore to himself that they were going to find a way to get through it. He couldn’t give up, he realised that he didn’t want to, not while he still had them.

As Thranduil’s apologies and Tilda’s cries grew louder the other children must have heard, because the door was pushed open again, everything was blurry through the water gathered in his eyes. But he could still see the relief on his kids’ faces, could feel it as the all piled onto the big bed, crying and grasping onto each other. Holding onto their ada as he held onto them.

The bed didn’t feel so empty any more.

He didn’t feel so empty.

He knew in that moment that somehow, they would get through it. It wouldn’t be easy, and not a single one of them would be doing it for themselves, but _by god_ they would drag each other through it.

A few hours later, when the cries of relief and grief died down, they all got up.

Thranduil made dinner before they went to bed properly for the night.

Sigrid kept it down, Legolas remembered to eat, Bain put away his things from the bag he had never truly unpacked, and Tilda fell asleep in Thranduil’s arms.

 

They would get through it together.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would just like to let peeps know that I'm sorry about being slower with the fic updates, but unfortunately there are uni essays, six of them -_- but I will get back to doing two or three a day as soon as I am able :)


	69. Merman!Bard AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> dude dude dude what if au in which the lake under laketown is so damn deep and there are MERPEOPLE down at the bottom and Bard is one of them like this surly absolute give no fucks merman who made the mistake of swimming to the surface because his Bby darling Tilda wanted to see what a flower really looks like so he went up to get one for her and had the enormous misfortune of getting caught in one of the Master's nets and I have no idea what the Master was planning to do to him but the elves Happened to be in laketown for whatever reason and Thranduil is amazed by this incredibly handsome merman and intervenes and saves him?
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Da…?” Came his youngest daughter’s voice through the water as she swam over to him.

“Yes darlin’?” Bard replied, looking up from where he was tinkering with a sunken metal contraption of some kind, really the things land-dwellers came up with were very bizarre.

“I was wondering…” She trailed off again, clearly unsure about whatever it was she had to ask.

“Come on you, out with it.” Bard smiled, spinning his youngest around, tickling her sides, her pretty shimmering blue tail shaking as she laughed and shrieked, trying to get away.

“I wanted to know what a flower was? Sigrid and Hilda were saying that they’re beautiful but they don’t grow down here, only on the surface. But I’m not even sure what a flower is.”

“Well, a flower is a plant, normally prettier than the things that grow down here, but not completely different to them.” Bard took her hand and they swam over to a little patch of underwater reeds and plain green plants, they didn’t get vibrant plants at the bottom of the dingy long lake. He plucked one of the green ones. “Imagine a colourful swirl blooming out of this, flowers can be bluer than your tail, or a brighter orange than Miss Hilda’s, or multi-coloured like Sig’s, they can be colours we don’t even really get down here, like pure white, silver and gold like the sun.”

Tilda’s little face was filled with wondered, he wispy hair floating around her face as he could see her imagination conjuring an image for her. He could tell she wanted to see one.

She wasn’t strong enough to swim all the way to the surface yet, and even when she was, Bard would not let her. No one went to the surface anymore, not for generations, since the masters of Laketown had started setting nets and traps to ensnare them, to catch them and treat them like exhibits as if they were base animals to be put on show. Those who were caught and didn’t do as told were killed and dumped back into the lake.

No one went to the surface anymore.

But the Master and his nets had never scared Bard, he was wary of course, but his little girl wanted to see a flower, it couldn’t be difficult to find one within reach of the water.

The next day, after much scolding from Sigrid who tried to stop him from going, Bard started the swim to the surface. It was a long way, and the change in pressure was dramatic, but the merpeople of the long lake were made of sturdy stuff, designed to adapt, and Bard was an exceptionally strong swimmer, it wasn’t hard for him.

What was hard was locating a flower and taking it without being seen by any surface people. He would be able to escape, ducking down below the surface and going under buildings or just swimming back down. But he was a little cautious, there were other people here today, dressed out in armour and weapons, tall and ethereal in their beauty, Bard was fairly sure they were elves. Although he did not know why they were here, maybe they dealt with the men of the lake occasionally.

Bard was about to duck back down and continue his search when something caught his eye. Well, someone. Infinitely more beautiful than any of his elven cohort Bard watched as the most enchanting creature he had ever seen stepped out decked in what had to be royal garb, talking down to the repulsive Master of Laketown.

The elf had a waterfall of silver hair that looked as soft as spun silk, he was tall and his every move was elegant, Bard couldn’t imagine anything moving with such grace out of water. His features were delicate yet sharp, giving away that there was nothing truly delicate about this man, he was like a diamond, beautiful and fine, but resilient and unbreakable. His jaw was strong and his porcelain skin was contrasted perfectly with dark brows that sat atop piercing ice-blue eyes.

Ice-blue eyes that were staring straight at him.

Bard gasped and immediately ducked under the water, hiding himself under the platforms that held up the town. He waited for the inevitable commotion as the alarm was raised, alerting the Master and Lake people to his presence, the race of men feared what they did not know.

But there was no commotion, no shouting and racing about, no extra nets being thrown down. Could it be that the elf had not raised the alarm? Or were they trying a different tactic to catch him, waiting quietly for him to resurface? Bard did not know.

He did not swim back down to his people as he ought, because he had not retrieved a flower for Tilda yet.

It had nothing to do with hoping to steal another glimpse of the elf.

He swam around carefully, managing to be almost silent as he moved through the waters.

He saw the elf a couple of times, and when their eyes met again, he held his gaze for a moment, he though the elf looked at him with something of happy surprise, before he swam back under the town to continue his search.

Eventually he found a flower within reach, he carefully leant out of the water and picked it, but he was too busy letting his eyes search for the elf that he didn’t notice the woman who spotted him, she shouted, raising the alarm, it started him and made him careless and as he scrambled to swim away his tail fins got caught in one of the Master’s vicious nets, he couldn’t pull at it through fear od tearing his fin.  

It wasn’t long before a group of men had him by the arms and was dragging him from the water. Bard thrashed around, attempting to throw them off. Merpeople were very strong on land, used to having to work against the resistance of water, not air, but he had a tail, not legs and found it difficult to move away quickly. There were too many of them, they bound his arms behind his back, stepping on his back to keep him pushed against the floor.

“Well well well. What do we have here? I thought your ilk had finally learnt not to come up here.” Came the Master’s sneering tone as he tried to life up Bard’s chin with his foot.

Bard didn’t answer, keeping his face turned away.

“What no words? Has your kind devolved further and lost the ability to speak?” The Master mocked.

Again Bard refused to answer, stoically ignoring the way the foot pressing into his back and bound arms was putting a dangerous amount of pressure on his joints. Being out of the water was already making his fins stiff and sensitive.

“I think I might – ”

“What do you think you are doing.” An ice cold voice cut off the Master, instinctive Bard knew who it belonged to.

“King Thranduil?” Came the Masters confused, greasy voice. “He’s trespassing.”

“How long have you been doing this?” His tone was one Bard would not want to be on the receiving end of, but the Master seemed to remain stupidly ignorant of what the tone indicated.

“Oh we’ve been keeping them at bay for generations. They’re just lake rats.” The Master stated dismissively.

“ _Lake rats_.” Thranduil’s voice was chilling, deadly, seething. “You call the mer, a race far older than that of men, a race spun to life by the magic of my people, _lake rats._ I can assure you, they are not the rats here.”

“Wha-” The Master started, but Thranduil’s cold voice cut him off.

“Release him immediately.” His voice brokered exactly no room for argument and within seconds the pressure on his back was gone and Bard’s arms cut free.

Bard immediately flipped over, looking up at the elf, he saw the way his eyes lingered on Bard’s chest appreciatively, it was the same way his own raked over the elf’s face. They looked at each other for a few tentative moments.

“Thank you.” Bard told him sincerely, before he slipped back into the water, but he did not leave just yet.

He listened from where he could not be seen, heard as Thranduil made a few things absolutely clear. That if he heard of one mer being harmed, if he found one net designed for anything other than fish, if they attempted to capture any of them when they came to the surface, they would have a legion of elves on their doorstep, and the ending of their trade would be the least of their worries. He removed the Master and instructed the people of Laketown to set up an election for their new leader.

Bard watched him with a smile, purposefully catching his eye for where he was in the water when Thranduil left the crowd of gathered people he had just been issuing instructions and light threats to. The elf walked gracefully over to where Bard leant his chin on his arms on top of the wooden planks, the rest of his body swaying in the waters.

“Thank you.” Bard said again, a little smile tugging at his lips and a slight tease in his tone. He liked the way Thranduil was looking at him. He liked it a lot.

“We weren’t sure any of you still existed. We had not caught sight of you in so long, you never came to the surface anymore. Although now I see why. Tell me, what brought you up knowing what danger the people of Laketown posed?”

“My daughter wanted to see a flower.” Bard smiled, and Thranduil’s face softened impossibly, he wondered how long it had been since he had known of a child to be curious about a flower.

“And did you find her one?” He asked.

“I found something far more beautiful than a flower.” Bard grinned jumping up and leaning on the pier to bring his torso out of the water and catch Bard off-guard in a quick but sure kiss.

Thranduil met him eagerly, tangling a hand in Bard’s hair as he turned the kiss greedy, sliding their tongues together and letting out an almost inaudible moan. Bard grinned into the kiss and bit at the elf’s bottom lip, pulling on it playfully before pulling back and settling back down into the water, enjoying the flustered look on the Elvenking’s face.

“You know, they say the kiss from a mer enables you to breathe underwater.” Thranduil wondered aloud with a little twinkle in his eyes, like he found Bard fascinating.

“Oh yeah? Want to find out?” Bard grinned, voice filled with mischief.

He watched as Thranduil only seemed to realise what he meant when Bard was already pulling him into the water, laughing loudly as Thranduil spluttered and glared, only to end up splashing Bard in the face and kissing him again.

It became safe for them on the surface again, and after only a little while, one saved drowning child, and a lot of guilty apologies from the land dwellers, they started to live in harmony with the people of the town. And the elves came down to the town often, excited (or as excited as elves get) about the discovery that the merpeople still lived.

The first time Bard brought his children up to the surface, it had been the biggest relief of his life when they took an immediate liking to Thranduil. Tilda especially was instantly absolutely smitten with Thranduil, and he with her. They would spend entire days up with the elf, on the pier and in the water.

Thranduil had brought Tilda one of the rarest flowers in the forest, she watched with awe in her face as Thranduil sang it into blossoming in front of her, elven magic swirling around them

“ _Neth loth nín_.” Thranduil smiled as he passed it over to Tilda, who took it reverently.

Bard smiled at him and before long they were kissing again, it was a common occurrence these days.

Gradually, Thranduil developed the ability to breathe underwater.

They had a lot of fun with that.     


	70. Thranduil and kittens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Modern AU in which Tilda brings home a box of kittens and Thranduil is like the one person in the house who actively tries to avoid and act like ge dislikes the creatures so naturally the momemt he enters the room they make a beeline for him and Start climbing up his boots but when no one else is around Thrandy stops trying to be so calm and collected and gives in to the side of himself that just wants to scoop them all up and cuddle them and then he falls asleep on the couch with a blanket Made of purring kittens and Bard comes home and finds him that way.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“No, no way.” Thrandui stated firmly, crossing his hands over his chest.

His entire family was stood in front of him, they were each cradling a kitten in their hands.

“But ada, pleeease.” Tilda begged, holding carefully in her small hands an even smaller kitten, her one was a little ginger tabby, no more than a ball of fluff.

“No.” Thranduil repeated, although he’d be lying if he said his resolve didn’t waver at least a little in the face of his youngest looking up at him with big eyes.

“Oh but ada look at them they’re _so_ cute!” Legolas grinned up at him, or he would have if he wasn’t so busy making goo goo eyes at the white kitten squirming around in his hands.

“N-” Thranduil went to state again, but he was cut off by Bain before he could even get the whole syllable out.

“And they don’t have anywhere to go.” Bain protested, clutching the shabby grey kitten to his chest protectively.

“You don’t want us to put them back out on the street, that’s too cruel!” Legolas sounded completely outraged, as if he thought Thranduil would actually abandon the little things out on the street.

“I never said put them on the street I’m sure we can manage to take them to the shelter.” Thranduil replied, exasperated and feeling his firmness beginning to crumble.

“Thran, look at their little faces, we have room.” Bard insisted, petting a little tuxedo kitten that was nuzzling into his large palm. Really Thranduil wasn’t equipped to see something so small and delicate in Bard’s hands – honestly it was a good job they couldn’t have a baby because Thranduil had no idea how he would survive it.

“Come on, ada, how can you say no to this?” Teased Sigrid smushing her face together with her white kitten covered with a patchwork of brown and black and looking up at him.

“Peeease ada.” They all pleaded at him, and maybe Thranduil had somehow grown the ability to resist Tilda’s puppy-dog eyes (it was a necessity or he’d never be able to say no to her) but when his entire family – including his ridiculous husband – was pouting at him, cuddling kittens to their chests and fixing him with pleading looks then well, he was only human.

“Oh fine! The kittens can stay.” He gave up, throwing his arms up dramatically.

There was a chorus of ‘yays’ and ‘you’re the best ada’ and his whole family was bundling him into a cuddle pile, kittens and all.

It was ridiculous.

“But your kittens, your mess to clean up.” Thranduil declared firmly, getting a lot of nods and promising looks.

“As if you’d ever clean up after them anyway.” Bard grinned at him.

“True but I might hire someone to do it.”

“You cannot hire a kitten sitter.” Bard deadpanned.

“Then you best clean up after them.” Thranduil smirked back, popping a kiss on the end of Bard’s nose and heading back to the living room to settle down on the sofa.

His family filtered into the living room, talking utter nonsense to their respective kittens and starting to come up with names for them.

“Where did you even find them?” Thranduil had to ask, maybe they were lost and he could return them to someone. But then, with the happy faces on his family he didn’t really want to take the kittens away from them, and begrudgingly he admitted to himself that they really were quite cute.

“In a box.” Tilda smiled happily.

“In a box. You found a literal box of kittens.” Thranduil repeated, not realising that was an actual thing that happened. Boxes of kittens. It was absurd.

“Yeah, someone had left them on the street.” Bard shrugged, but Thranduil could tell that the fact that someone would do that disgusted him. And Thranduil had to admit, that he probably wouldn’t have been able to leave the either, although he might have taken them to a shelter rather than bringing five kittens home.

In his head, Thranduil started a list of things they were going to need to get, and right at the top of it was litter boxes, he was not going to be happy if he found little presents around the house. He wrote down the list and pinned it to the fridge, it would need to be done as soon as possible, the kitten needed to be taken to the vets and checked out as well.

After a little while, getting used to their new home and family, the kittens started to get curious and began padding around the room. And they all decided that it was Thranduil they wanted to converge on.

Thranduil glared at Bard, but apparently the effectiveness of his glare was somewhat tampered by the tiny kittens crawling all over him, deciding that he would be a good place to settle down for a nap. His family just laughed at him.

“I don’t even like cats.”  Thranduil grumbled to Bard that evening as they snuggled down into bed, Thranduil tucking himself into Bard as he always did. “I mean, they’re haughty and proud and think they’re the most important thing in the world.”

“Hmm, sounds like someone else I know, maybe that’s why I do happen to like cats.” Bard grinned back, Thranduil swatted at his chest.

“I am _not_ like a cat.”

“Oh I don’t know, you do like to wrap yourself around me. And you decide to curl up on me at the most inconvenient times sometimes, and there have been a couple of times when you have shut my laptop when you decided I wasn’t paying enough attention to you. All very cat-like if you ask me. Not to mention that when I stroke your hair you practically purr, and–”

Thranduil shut him up effectively with a truly filthy kiss, distracting Bard thoroughly from his teasing tirade about Thranduil’s more feline qualities.

Thranduil wasn’t the one purring by the end of it.

The next morning, Thranduil attempted to hand off the list of chores and things to get for the cats to his family. But of course, the kids all had school and Bard had work, so it was Thranduil that ended up collecting up their box of kittens and taking them to the vet, making sure they all had their vaccinations and that they were all healthy.

And if he ended up getting them the most expensive, extensive insurance there was, well it was only because of how much it would hurt his family if something was to happen to them and had absolutely nothing to do with the adorable little purring sounds that they all made.

Nothing at all.

Honestly he didn’t even like cats.

After the vet he dropped the kitten’s home, hoping they wouldn’t get up to too much mischief in his absence, but he didn’t much fancy taking five tiny kittens with him to the pet shop, he’d probably end up losing one and then he’d have to deal with a very upset child or husband.

He wandered around the generic pet shop for approximately ten minutes before he decided that nothing in here was up to standard and left for a far more upmarket little pet boutique. Well, if he was being forced to have cats they were at least going to live in style.

It had nothing to do with the way their cute little faces stared up at him as they clambered on him.

Okay, Thranduil would admit that he had possibly gone a little overboard, but it wasn’t like he couldn’t afford it. And really what did Bard expect, leaving it to him of course he was going to get everything.

There were litter boxes, a wealth of cat food, bowls, kitty-carriers, beds, scratch posts, an obscene number of toys, those crinkly thinks that the shop assistant had assured him cats loved and he also had a collar for each of them on hold which he could ring up and have engraved when they finally picked out names and they could wear when they got a little bigger.

See it was all essentials really.

Well, the cat castle he had bought may have been overkill, he had picked a particularly large one. But then there were five of the little fur-balls and they weren’t going to stay so small for long and there needed to be room for all of them on it so really it was only necessary.

Both of them were.

Thranduil wandered around the house that afternoon, persistently stalked by the gaggle of mewling kittens who seemed far more interested in Thranduil than all the presents he had bought them. He found a place for all their new things about the house scattering about their beds and putting away the food and he set up (he had set up) the two castles, one in the living room and one on the large landing upstairs – really it was a good thing Thranduil had insisted on such a spacious house when they threw their lot in together or they never would have had room for it all.

He really did try to lose his five shadows as he went about his business for the day, it was highly off-putting and not at all adorable to have five kittens scrambling over his lap, desk and computer as he tried to work.

(It was totally adorable).

When they got home they all bounced around excitedly, thanking their ada and scooping up their respective kitten, taking it to see all the new toys and furniture – Bard being just as soppy as the kids and only raising an eyebrow and smirking a little at all the new stuff, Thranduil glared helf-heartedly, but he smirked to himself when he heard Bard grumbling a little when he found the second cat castle.

They all managed to name their kitten, well, after Thranduil effectively vetoed almost every name they came up with, but eventually they thought of something that he deemed acceptable for the kitten.

Tilda named her ginger tabby Tigger, but ‘Tiggs’ for short, Legolas had called his little while ball of fur Snowball and Thranduil couldn’t really fault him for appropriateness, Bain had gone for Bear for his shabby grey kitten which was funny because he did sound like he was trying to roar when he mewled sometimes, Bard had named his tuxedoed cat Max, grinning at Thranduil and he had to admit that he really did look like a Max somehow, and Sigrid had called her patchwork kitten Banjo, which for some reason that Thranduil couldn’t fathom, suited her.

As the kids filtered up to bed, the kittens converged on Thranduil, climbing up his legs and piling into his lap even as he scowled at them – or maybe because, it was hard to tell with cats, even when they were just kittens. But still, them burrowing into him meant that he couldn’t curl up in Bard’s lap. It was highly inconvenient.

As was the unforeseen fact that he simply couldn’t bring himself to shift them off him, no matter how much he frowned at them.

“They recognise a kindred spirit.” Bard grinned, petting at the kittens then looking at Thranduil’s disgruntled expression, petting his hair instead, scooting closer so that Thranduil could at least nuzzle his head into Bard’s neck.

Dammit. He might be a little like a cat.

Over the next few weeks Thranduil continued to act nonchalant towards the kittens while everybody was around (even though he was pretty sure he was fooling no one) and not that it stopped the little critters congregating on his lap whenever he sat and climbing up his legs whenever he tried to walk.

He pretended to mind.

Everyone knew he loved it.

But when everyone else was at school or at work and the mewling little fuzz-balls made a beeline for him, well, there was nothing to stop him scooping up all five of them, collapsing on his back on the sofa and sprawling out cuddling the kittens to his chest.

He petted at them and smiled as they would patter around on his chest and stomach or burrow into his hair, rolling around in it, or nudge at his hand demandingly if he was neglecting his petting duties. They were demanding little things, he though with a smile.

Okay, he admitted to himself, maybe they were a little alike.

He fell asleep with a purring blanket of tiny kittens curled up on his chest. And when Bard came home to see it, he grinned to himself, carefully carrying each little kitten to one of the cat beds, giving Max and extra little nuzzle, before returning to the sofa and scooping up his own, far bigger cat.

He would never get over how surprisingly light Thranduil was.

Thranduil looped his arms lazily around Bard’s neck and snuggled in to his neck, snuffling sleepily. He felt and heard Bard chuckle, pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s head and setting him down on the bed gently, covering him with a light blanket. Bard always let him sleep, no matter the time, he was far too much of a softie to wake him properly.

Thranduil grabbed onto his hand when he went to leave, whining and tugging him back towards the bed, getting a smiling kiss pressed to his own lips for his trouble.

“Enjoy your cat-nap your majesty.” Bard teased fondly, brushing a hand through Thranduil’s hair a couple of times. He would deny purring until the day he died. “I’ll come get you when dinner is almost ready.”

The kittens were scrambling up onto the bed and snuggling back down with him before Bard even turned to leave, he rolled his eyes, shaking his head fondly as they all fell back asleep in a pile of fur and silken blond hair.

He woke up half an hour later with two kittens _literally_ sleeping on his face.

And his ridiculous family cackling and taking photos.

 

OMG LOOK! THE KITTIES!!

Tiggs  Snowball  Bear  Max  Annnd Banjo!  

    


	71. A different kind of pyjamas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Modern! AU where Thrandy picks out all Bard's clothes for everything and occasionally ties his ties for him because he never does it right and basically is the only reason Bard doesn't perpetually look like a lumberjack or something and some nights this even extends to the bedroom where Thrandy brings home idk garters or leather pants or something else ridiculous and sexy for Bard to wear but then you have the nights where it's the other way around and Thrandy puts on one of Bard's lumberjack shirts to walk around the house in that's it just Bard's horrible shirt and nothing else and Bard sees him and stares for a second before just tackling him onto the couch 
> 
> Rated: E

 

It wasn’t that Thranduil was controlling or anything, it was just that Bard could apparently not dress himself, or at least, couldn’t dress himself well. To be fair Bard was aware that if Thranduil left him to it he would look like a lumberjack all the time, when apparently it was only acceptable occasionally, or in the house, or when actually chopping wood in the garden for Thranduil’s huge fireplace.

Bard didn’t mind, on the contrary, Thranduil made sure he looked good so that he could show Bard off, and Bard knew that Thranduil wouldn’t really mind if he wandered around dressed in whatever, that if Bard didn’t like him dressing him (in all senses of the word – admittedly sometimes a little counterproductive) he wouldn’t.

But Bard did like it, liked that Thranduil actually knew how to tie a tie so he didn’t end up looking like an idiot at his fancy dinners and more than anything, Bard liked looking good for Thranduil.

So he liked when Thranduil brought him clothes to wear.

Especially when that extended into the bedroom.

 

It had started with a particularly well fitted pair of leather trousers and had escalated pretty quickly from there. Leather trousers turned into booty shorts, booty shorts turned into panties, and panties inevitably turned into garters.

Or at least, Bard was turning it into garters right now.

He was waiting for Thranduil to get home, he shouldn’t be much longer. He hated corporate meetings, especially when they were in the evening over some bullshit drinks and stretched out into the late evening.

So naturally, being the fantastic fiancée he was, Bard wanted to cheer him up.

He was rummaging through one of Thranduil’s drawers, looking for his favourite pair of panties for Bard to wear when he came across them. A garter belt and suspenders with a pair of translucent black tights, they fit perfectly.

With only a little confusion, Bard managed to work out how to get it all on, along with a pair of simple black lace panties, he prepped himself for the night in more ways than one as he got ready for Thranduil’s return. He propped himself up against the headboard, nonchalantly reading a book, but with his legs splayed open lewdly, and he waited.

He heard Thranduil come in a small while later, could tell by the clatter of his keys and sound of the discard of his boots and coat that he was indeed in a bad mood.

Well, not for long, Bard smirked to himself.

“Bard?” Thranduil called, not finding him in the living room where he usually was watching tv at this time.

“In here babe.” Bard called casually, even as he began to harden in the panties just in anticipation. Thranduil started talking as he made his way to the bedroom.

“Who holds business meetings in restaurants and bars anyway, what purpose does that serve exactly? I at least am under no delusion that we’re friends. Anyway, they actually had the gall to ask–”

When his words ground to a halt as he rounded the door and saw him, Bard looked over the top of the book he wasn’t really reading and plastered on the best innocent look he could manage.

“Something wrong?” He asked innocently, but he was biting his lip and knew that his eyes must be sparkling with mischief, Thranduil just looked _hungry_.

His mouth was slightly open as he stared, drinking in the sight before him, eyes dragging slowly up Bard’s body, lingering on the lingerie until finally meeting his eyes.

Bard smirked, Thranduil pounced.

He stalked up the bed, immediately diving in to claim Bard’s mouth and knocking the book onto the floor without a second thought.

“I was reading that.” Bard pretended to protest even as Thranduil’s hands raked over his chest.

“It was upside-down.” Thranduil growled, _damn_ , Bard thought, it was always the details.

He let Thranduil manhandle him down the bed so that he wasn’t propped against the headboard, pressing him down flat on his back as they bit and sucked at each other’s lips. It probably wasn’t a good kiss as far as anyone else would want, too much tongue and nipping and sucking, but it was exactly how they liked it. It was filthy.

Bard pulled on Thranduil’s hair making them both moan as Thranduil nails grazed over his nipples. Bard bit on Thranduil’s bottom lip as he tried to break the kiss, but a sudden hand stroking him through the thin fabric of the panties had him gasping, effectively freeing Thranduil, who was smirking at him like he’d won a great prize.

Thranduil licked his way down Bard’s chest, swirling his tongue over his nipples and sucking biting marks into the skin there that matched the ones Bard had given him the night before. Bard whined, one hand still buried in that silken hair as Thranduil teased the hem of the panties with his mouth, scraping his teeth against Bard’s skin.

Thranduil moved down to mouth at Bard through the lace, one of his favourite things to do, licking teasingly at the tip of his cock as it peeked out from the panties, unable to cover him all when he was hard – the panties were not exactly made for someone with a cock, let alone Bard’s somewhat larger than average one.

Bard moaned, both loving and hating the teasing Thranduil was taunting him with, but god right now he just wanted. He tugged on Thranduil’s hair, making him gasp – he would never get over how much Thranduil liked having his hair pulled, and he would never not take complete advantage of it either.

Thranduil moved his mouth down and laved his tongue over Bard’s balls, again through the lace, before coming back up to Bard’s neck and reaching across to the bedside table. Bard caught his hand, sucking the fingers into his mouth and running his tongue over them in a way that was making Thranduil pant.

But despite how much Bard was turning him on by sucking on his fingers, Thranduil raised a quizzical and meaningful eyebrow, he knew Bard liked it rough sometimes – they both did both ways – but there was no way he was going to try and fuck him with nothing but spit (albeit a copious amount of it) to ease the way.

Bard just smirked, knowing the reaction he was about to get as he guided Thranduil’s spit-slick fingers down to his loose, wet and ready hole. Thranduil pressed his fingers in without hesitation, checking that Bard really was ready for him before growling possessively, latching onto Bard’s neck in a brutal assault, shoving the panties aside and pressing in without pause, seating himself entirely.

He didn’t wait for Bard to so much as catch his breath before he started pulling out and ramming back in. It burnt a little but it was just the way Bard loved it, panting and gasping as Thranduil built up a punishing pace and outright moaning as Thranduil changed the angle and _nailed_ his sweet spot so perfectly Bard could swear he nearly blacked out.

Thranduil released Bard’s neck, straightening his back so that he could fuck Bard harder, as if he was trying to find out of it was actually possible to literally fuck someone through the mattress, pushing Bard up the bed slightly with every brutal snap of his hips.

Thranduil wrapped a hand around the back of each of Bard’s knees, the smooth of the tights still between their skin as he pushed them down, moving his hands to scratch and tease over the garters and suspenders as he tested Bard’s flexibility – which he knew perfectly well as he had forced Bard to join him at yoga – he was pretty sure the instructor knew they were only there to improve their flexibility for sex – which was most definitely working as Thranduil was now able to practically bend Bard in half as he hammered into him even deeper than before.

Thranduil could bend even further – that had led to some interesting (sensational) positions.

An almost constant stream of moans were falling from both their lips, a litany of mumbled curses and each other’s names, lost in gasps and whines.

Thranduil bent down and bit Bard’s lip hard and wrapped a hand around his neglected cock in an attempt to push him over the edge first, even though they both knew that they were both very close. Bard retaliated by reburying his hand and  pulling sharply on Thranduil’s silken hair making Thranduil cry out as his orgasm shook through him suddenly, spilling inside of Bard. The shock of it had the delightful side effect of him tightening his hand around Bard, perfectly balanced on this side of too tight and sending him barrelling over the edge as well, painting their chest and stomachs (and even a little bit of Thranduil’s chin) with his come.

They collapsed against each other and panted as they came down from their high (and what a high it had been). Bard felt Thranduil’s smooth fingers toying with the garters before pulling one of the suspenders and letting it snap against his skin.

“We’re getting more of these.” He stated simply, still breathing heavily.

“Agreed.” Bard answered, before slapping Thranduil’s ass and squeezing his cheek. “Although I don’t think I’m the only one who would look good in them.”

Thranduil’s eyes flickered with mischief.

 

Bard knew just how to tease him, when to wait at home for him in the things they bought and Thranduil knew exactly how to do the same with him, letting him know just when he couldn’t do anything about it – often in public – exactly what underwear he had on.

But there was something Thranduil knew Bard loved even more, that woke up his possessive side, something which Thranduil loved, always guaranteeing to leave him thoroughly fucked.

He had discovered (more likely tested a theory if the why his eyes were glinting and lips smirking were anything to go by) one morning while Bard was in the kitchen. He was making them some breakfast when Thranduil padded out of the bedroom in absolutely nothing but Bard’s favourite lumberjack shirt hanging open as he stretched obscenely – the shirt hadn’t hidden anything of his long frame _before_ he started to stretch.

And god the sight of him in absolutely nothing but his favourite shirt woke up something wild in Bard, something that just wanted to _claim_.

Especially when Thranduil intentions were so clear, his morning wood stood proud and undoubtedly expecting attentions from Bard. Bard watched as Thranduil turned, expression smug as Bard stared, unable to take his eyes off that lush ass as he sauntered towards the living room.

Bard tackled him into the sofa and fucked him hard over one of the armrests. He was pretty sure the neighbours heard. Possibly the entire street.

He had to buy a new shirt lumberjack shirt, his favourite got a little stained…and torn.

 

It was _so_ worth it.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *cries about my essays* once again I reassure you that as soon as I am able to (without actually jeopardising my degree) I will get back to publishing every day ~ I can assure you I miss it more than you do :')


	72. Thranduil neglects to mention that he might in fact be the Elvenking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> so, I found a Hobbit FAQ with sources that said that elves from Mirkwood would actually visit Laketown and hang out there! AU where Thranduil, after spying Bard fetching barrels from the river, decides to pay a visit to Laketown disguised as one of the regular common elves so he can get closer to the bargeman?
> 
> Rated: T

 

Thranduil had spied him purely by accident the first time it happened, just a brief glimpse, but it had been more than enough for his interest to be well and truly piqued.

The man was rugged and startlingly attractive for a mortal, a completely different kind of beauty to the one he was accustomed to. He was handsome, features surprisingly soft considering the hard life he so clearly endured. His coat draped over the rail was well worn and frayed but clearly warm – too warm for the spring time really, it must be his only coat – his boots were beginning to tatter, his tunic was old (and revealing a tantalising glimpse of tanned skin) and his hair was scruffily half pulled back.

And by the Valar, that _voice_ , it had a musical lilt to it that hard drawn Thranduil over in the first place, his sensitive ears had picked up the voice through the trees and he had found himself following it, wanting to know how the owner of such a beautiful voice was.

He had not been disappointed.

He watched enrapt as he took in the man, his strong shoulders and gentle smile. He also noticed the sizable longbow resting to the side – he knew it took considerable skill – and strength – to wield such a weapon with any accuracy.

As the bargeman, or perhaps he should be called bowman, moved the barrels Thranduil saw who he was talking to, a young girl sat on top of one of the barrels, swinging her legs as she smiled and chattered away.

She called him da and giggled when he teased or tickled her, and despite her small frame – and the fact Thranduil was fairly sure she was more of a hindrance than a help – the man let her ‘help’ move the barrels, smiling down fondly at her as her face screwed up in concentration. 

“Thank you darlin’” The bowman smiled, voice lilting and scooping up the little girl and spin her around, making her squeal delightedly before placing her to sit atop his shoulders.

Children were so rare among the elves, Thranduil had almost forgot what it had felt like to hold Legolas in his arms, swing him around and get his smiles and laughs so easily, but now he was remembering.

Maybe that what mesmerised him so, so maybe it was the sight of someone so rough and hardened by life handling a little one with such care and love, or maybe it was his handsome face and his voice, or just his whole demeanour.

Either way Thranduil knew he wanted to speak to him, to be spoken to by him, have his attention even if only for a moment.

So he started to formulate a plan.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult plan, nor even a clever one, it simply didn’t need to be. Elves were hardly a rarity in Laketown, many of his people enjoying spending time among the mortal men, despite the universal distaste for the notorious Master of the town.

Still Thranduil knew that there was no way any of his elves would recognise him without his royal garb, that if he braided his hair down his shoulder it would not draw attention like his usual loose straight hair did, despite its eye catching colour – for Thranduil never braided his hair – and he knew that if he wore plain woodland clothes, losing even the circlet, that none of his subjects would recognise him, as they wold not spare him a glance.

And the people of Laketown had never actually seen him, although they knew his name, he would have to think of another in case someone asked, or maybe he just wouldn’t answer.

So Thranduil made his way down to the edge of the lake again the next day, at the time he knew the barrels would be released and collected by the bargeman that he found so unfathomably intriguing.

His hair was braided to one side, neither a crown nor a circlet on his hair, plain moss green and woody brown clothes, as if he were part of his own guard. He smirked to himself as no one had even looked his way as he had passed through his own halls, making no move to obscure his face and as a result passing through completely anonymously. If he could do that here it would be even easier in Laketown.

He reached the mouth of the river, opening into the Lake, and indeed he came upon the bowman moving the barrels onto his barge, this time he did not have the little girl with him, Thranduil didn’t know if that disappointed him right now, but he did know he was curious to meet her.

The bowman’s eyes flicked up, probably sensing that he was no longer alone, he jumped backwards as he saw Thranduil standing close.

“You scared me.” He stated, tone caught somewhere between amusement and scolding.

In theory such a tone should’ve been impossible, a juxtaposition in itself, but Thranduil recognised it as a tone developed by a father with young children, he remembered when he used to use it with Legolas, like the time he had discovered his mischievous little leaf smuggling all the food – the best food – from the kitchen out to the stables for the animals.

Thranduil felt a refreshing wave of normalcy – even though it was something he had never before experienced – as the man neither bowed nor looked scared nor worried about formalities of any kind. He liked it.

He also liked the way the bargeman was looking at him, like he was something new, despite all the elves he no doubt had contact with. The way his eyes dragged up his form only to then pretend they had not. Thranduil smirked to himself.

“That was not my intent.”

“Then maybe next time make a little more noise, we don’t all have super-hearing.” The man teased before continuing. “I’ve not seen you around before?”

“No, I have never been into Laketown before.” Thranduil answered, hopping up elegantly to sit on one of the barrels the man had yet to load.

“Oh, so you’re angling for a lift?” The bargeman teased again, Thranduil found he quite liked that tone.

“Indeed I am.” Thranduil smirked back, making the bargeman chuckle.

“Well I guess I can oblige.” He replied, voice jokingly serious, like he was going out of his way, even though Thranduil was fairly sure the bargeman would be more than happy with Thranduil in his way.

“However will I repay you?” Thranduil asked impishly, lacing his words with a second meaning while walking gracefully on to the barge, and maybe he was letting his hips sway more than was strictly necessary, but it was clearly having the desired effect as the man bit his lip, looking like he knew exactly how he wanted Thranduil to repay him.

The bargeman recovered himself, his expression changing into something of a grin, and with a raised eyebrow he answered.

“Well you can start by helping to load that barrel you had your arse sat on.” He stated, Thranduil barked out a laugh, making the man smile wider – he really had a beautiful smile.

“You want me to move a wet, dirty barrel?” Thranduil asked, dramatically clasping a hand to his chest like it was the most unthinkable thing (which it was, but the man didn’t know that).

“I’m sure you can manage princess.” The man shot back playfully, and Thranduil almost panicked before he remembered that should the man have actually had any idea who he was, he certainly wouldn’t risk calling him ‘princess’ or asking him to move a grubby barrel

Thranduil made a ‘hrumph’ noise as he flicked his hair over the shoulder and rolled the barrel onto the barge easily (he was after all, much stronger than any mortal was, or indeed than he looked anyway). The man raised an impressed eyebrow then laughed as Thranduil grimaced at the grime on his hands.

“I don’t suppose you have a cloth?” Thranduil queried, not holding out much hope, especially given the way the bargeman was chuckling at him.

“’Fraid not, your options are the Lake, or your clothes.” The man grinned, apparently finding Thranduil quite amusing.

Thranduil looked helplessly at his dirty hands before getting an idea and letting his lips quirk into a smirk. The man looked questioning, clearly wondering what Thranduil was smirking at.

The mystery was solved for him when Thranduil gracefully leapt forward and wiped his hands off on the startled bowman’s coat, under which he was pretty sure he could feel some serious muscle definition, not that he was copping a feel (or at least, not that the man seemed to mind Thranduil’s hands dragging over his chest).

“Better princess?” He asked with a grin but that grin turned into something else when Thranduil practically purred into his ear.

“Much.”

Thranduil walked smoothly over to the side and leant against the wood of the rails of the boat, the man’s eyes following him, raking up the long lines of his body. Thranduil was pretty sure they lingered on his rear quite long enough to presume that he wasn’t the only one thinking certain things. No matter how much his interest definitely extended beyond the man’s appearance, he couldn’t help the sparks his side-looks and mannerisms and appearance were igniting in him.

“So, how come you’ve decided to visit our delightful town?” He asked, they weren’t looking away from each other, getting more and more unabashed in their appraisal of each other, but he was clearly genuinely curious about Thranduil, and not just about his motives for visiting.

“Something caught my eye.” Thranduil replied with a sultry, appreciative look that couldn’t be misinterpreted, the man didn’t miss a beat returning it.

“Do I get to know your name?” He asked, there was definitely something left off the end of that sentence, the insinuation that he would like to know Thranduil’s name before they let anything happen from this electricity between them.

He found himself wanted to give his real name, even though he knew that would be foolish.

“Thran.” Is what he answered, neither a lie nor the whole truth.

He knew that the bargeman would not make the connection, after all, why on earth would the infamously cold and cruel Elvenking be flirting on a boat with a simple bargeman.

“Thran.” The man repeated, rolling it around on his tongue, Thranduil quite liked the way it sounded coming from him.

“And yours?”

“Bard.”

“Bard the bargeman, or would that be bowman?”

“Just Bard.”

“I highly doubt you’re just anything.”

Bard blushed just a tiny bit before concentrating on navigating them through the more dangerous parts of the waters, both of them still teetering on the edge of this _thing_ , enjoying the anticipation, Thranduil had never been unsure of what was going to happen before, here he was revelling in not knowing, not knowing anything about this man or about what might or might not happen.

“I have to ask.” Bard started tentatively as he moored the barge back up. “Did you, uh, really just come down here because I caught your eye? Or was that just a line?”

“What is a ‘line’?” Thranduil enquired, not sure he caught the meaning.

 “Um, it’s when without actually meaning it literally someone says something suggestive or as a come-on when you’re trying to pick someone up or get someone’s attention…Oh god it was a line wasn’t it and now I’ve probably made a complete fool of myself.” Bard went a brilliant shade of red and busied himself unloading his barrels, Thranduil smiled and answered the suddenly doubtful man.

“I can assure you that I meant it literally, I saw you down here the other day and found myself utterly intrigued.”

“Watching me from the bushes? How very suspicious of you.” He grinned, leaning back against the rail.

“Well, I do at least seem to have gotten your attention.”

“That you definitely have. But what I’m curious about is how on earth I got yours.”

“Oh?”

“Well yeah, you’re all.” Bard gestured somewhat wildly at Thranduil before attempting to articulate a little better with words. “I mean, you’re simply the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I didn’t actually know anyone could look like that, as if you were spun from the stars themselves. I don’t even know how to describe it and I’m not entirely sure if my mind isn’t just playing tricks on me. Because in what world could a simple bargeman with dirt on his hands and twigs in his hair and holes in his clothes ever catch the eye of someone like you?”

Thranduil knew he was blushing, and he did not blush easily, the last time had probably been with his wife, no one else had ever managed to elicit such a response from him. He came over a little shy, not used to such sincere compliment. Of course he received many compliments on his beauty, but not delivered with any sincerity, let alone the level of it he heard in Bard’s voice and saw in his face, it had been a very long time since anyone who mattered had said such things to him and meant them.

“I cannot believe no one has ever said these things before.” Bard stated, noticing his blush and the way he had suddenly become a little shy.

“It has been a very long time since anyone has complimented me so thoroughly. At least, anyone whose opinion mattered to me.” Thranduil answered honestly.

“My opinion matters to you?” Bard asked incredulously, and it was that disbelief that spurred Thranduil back from shyness.

“You think many people can inspire me to pursue them?” Thranduil countered, never before had he felt compelled to pursue a mortal, or even any elf, save his wife.

“Well I don’t know because I’m having trouble processing the alternative.” Bard replied a little self-depreciatingly, and well, that simply would not do.

“The alternative is that you are a highly ruggedly handsome man, who has clearly had a hard life and yet the first time I saw you, you were swinging a little girl around with such care and delicacy that it juxtaposed everything else I first thought about you. You are hardened by the life you lead and yet as soft as the water you live on. You intrigued me.” Thranduil replied, just as sincerely.

It was Bard’s turn to blush this time, their exchange having turned from something electric and physical into something far more than should have been possible after knowing each other for such a small amount of time.

“Come on.” Bard said finally, grabbing Thranduil’s hand a tugging him off down the street.

“Where are we going?” He asked as he happily allowed himself to be lead down the wooden paths, enjoying being able to follow for once.

“To a pub. I find myself wanting to get to know you better.” He told him easily and with a smile.

“And I you.” Thranduil returned, unable to keep his own smile down, not that he wanted to anyway, it had been a very long time since he had been free to smile so easily.

Bard grinned, pulling him into a lively building filled with music and easy laughter and noisy people. It like everything else this day, was completely unlike anything Thranduil had known before, he loved it.

 Bard got them both pint of ale and elbowed his way through the crowd to a slightly secluded little table, seating themselves next to each other so that they might hear one another, or at least, so that Bard stood a chance of hearing Thranduil.

They talked long into the night until they were being all but kicked out by the owner of the establishment, wanting to close up for the night. With every passing minute, every smile, every laugh and every new piece of information Thranduil knew with more and more certainty that he was already hooked. That this mortal was not someone he wanted to let slip through his fingers.

He had three children and had lost his wife giving birth to the last, his love for them shone out through everything he said, talking about them more than anything else. The Master of Laketown was clearly scum, but then Thranduil had known that anyway, what he hadn’t know was that he made Bard’s life particularly difficult. The Master may find himself with a somewhat threatening letter in the not to distant future from the Elvenking…

As the night wore on they slowly lost themselves in each other, they were practically sitting on top of one another when the barkeep finally kicked them out. Bard held his hand a tugged him towards his house, the children already asleep, and they collapsed exhausted onto his bed, too tired to do anything other than share their first kiss.

As they had collapsed, ready to sleep for a week, even though in reality Bard had to be back up early to take the barge out as the barrels arrived late Saturday evening and early Sunday morning (it was often a big night for them, what could he say). Bard had grabbed hold of Thranduil’s clothes and hauled him in for a kiss.

They were smiling which made it difficult, but it also made it perfect. It was tender and yet it definitely had an edge to it, a promise of what would happen if they weren’t both so tired. They kissed until the fell asleep, tangled up in each other completely and sleeping soundly.

Well sleeping soundly for the four hours until Bard had to be up again. He grumbled at Thranduil for his lack of sleep and he got up, dragging Thranduil out with him if he wanted a lift back on the barge. He did, his people would start to wonder where he had gone, he had not told them he was leaving after all; however he fully intended to return.

Bard scribbled out a note for his children and led the way back to the barge, only a few people up at this time, and Thranduil agreed, it was far too early, he would have to change the time the barrels were released on a Sunday because this simply would not do.

He fell asleep on the barge and Bard woke him when they had reached the pier. Thranduil delighted in the fact that the way Bard chose to wake him was through kissing him, nibbling on his lip and waking him up in more ways than one. And suddenly that tension that had been sparking on the barge the previous day was very much awake again, pushing them further, turning the kiss dirty and leaving hands scrabbling against the fastenings of clothes.  

And well, for someone who hadn’t even wanted to touch a barrel yesterday, Thranduil didn’t even hesitate before dropping to his knees on the damp deck of the barge. He also discovered that Bard was _sinfully_ talented with his tongue.

They had to wait another twenty minutes before Thranduil even attempted to walk.

On the second visit to Laketown, but after many more meetings as Bard collected the barrels when he was unable to give up the time to visit, Bard brought him to meet his children. He was not explicit about what they were, not that Thranduil was entirely sure either, but he was sure that Sigrid at least had worked it out.

She was a bright and beautiful girl who Thranduil could tell was going to be quite the beauty. She was clever and as soon as she relaxed to his presence, started absolutely grilling him about elvish medicine, utterly intrigued by the magic and abilities of it. The next time he visited (which was only a few short days later) Thranduil made sure to bring with him some of the herb and weeds that she could learn to use without the need for magic.

Bain was at first a little protective of his father, treating Thranduil with much more caution than the two girls. But apparently it only took him witnessing one tender and blissfully temporary goodbye between him and his father for him to warm up to him. Thranduil found him practicing his swordplay once or twice, and with the permission of Bard, offered his tutorship, Bain had accepted readily and now Thranduil found it exceedingly difficult to deny him when he ask for some extra pointers even if it meant they carried on past his bedtime and Thranduil got a glare from Bard when he came to fetch them. But there was never any heat in it, too relived to see his lover and his children getting along to mean it. Besides, Thranduil always made it up to him later.

Tilda was a firecracker. A little ball of endless energy and positivity that Thranduil was completely helpless to resist, even when she braided ridiculous pink bows into his hair without him knowing all he could do was smile and laugh, attacking her tummy with a tickle and making her shriek and laugh delightedly. She had also taken it upon herself to teach Thranduil to cook, which admittedly he could not do, having never had to do it himself in his life; however, it was a little difficult when she did not know either. Bard often found them laughing and covered in flour.

It did not take long for him to love those children as if they were his own. Just like it did not take long for him to fall for Bard wholly and without reservation.

Thranduil always travelled back on the barge with Bard, often managing to coax him into another round when he moored up – it’s not like there was anyone there, and Thranduil would hear anyone approaching anyway, well, unless Bad was driving him completely out of his mind which he was actually pretty adept at doing, so actually, he probably wouldn’t hear anyone. Oh well, they hadn’t been caught yet.

It occurred to him that he should probably tell Bard, but then, he hadn’t technically lied and he quite liked not being treated like a scary king. But he knew he needed to say, they were both far too invested in this for him not to, besides, he wanted Bard and the children to see his halls, visit him, for him to be able to shower them with all the things they desereved.

And maybe to do certain things while Bard sat in his throne…

Either way, he knew he was going to tell them, his mind was made up, but before just before he could, the company of Thorin Oakenshield showed up on his doorstep.

 

\----------------------

 

It was playing on Bard’s mind that he should probably dispatch a letter to Thran reassuring him that he was alright, he was probably worried sick. But he wasn’t about to ask someone else to do it, and it wasn’t like he could sneak away for half a day to meet him, he wasn’t even sure where he would find him.

He was still worrying about it when he went out the door and was met with an entire Elven army. He tried to keep his cool as he walked between them, searching their ranks for the familiar face of his lover, just one look would be enough for them.

Then someone announced king Thranduil and something clicked that probably should’ve clicked a long time ago.

Thran. King _Thran_ duil.

The complete ass, he was the sodding king. Of course he was.

And Bard was clearly the village idiot.

But then, could he really be blamed for not immediately thinking that his lover was in fact the Elvenking, when he’d met him in plain dress and a demeanour so different to the one reported of Thranduil. And he’d never actually seen Thranduil (or at least he hadn’t known he was talking to Thranduil king of the woodland realm).

Well it definitely explained a few things at least, like why Bard was never invited into the woods to see his home, or the way Thran phrased some things and how he seemed to have access to far more things than a normal Silvan elf would.

Bard stared open mouthed at Thranduil and glared at him a little, Thranduil smirked as his eyes twinkled, practically yelling with his expression; ‘You never asked me if I was the king’ as if that was a normal thing that people even suspected of each other.

Thranduil slipped easily into pretending they were just two leaders of their people (even if in Bard’s case it was some pretty reluctant leading) and like they hadn’t been thoroughly enjoying each other’s company – in every sense of the word – for months now.

“Something you wanted to tell me?” Bard grumbled later when they were finally alone, gesturing incredulously at, well, everything.

“Hmmm? Oh, yes of course. We’ll use my tent tonight, far less of a draft.”

And that was all that was said on the matter, although Bard definitely caught him smirking once or twice.

What a bastard.

Something then occurred to Bard that made him smirk. It had been the king of the woodland realm he’d been fucking on the deck of his barge for months now. How very common of him.

If Thranduil had planned on keeping their relationship quiet then he probably should’ve given Bard a heads up so he could tell his children not to scream ‘ada!’ and attack hug him the moment they saw him.

Which was of course exactly what they were doing, Sigrid and Bain at least trying to look a little scolding as he hadn’t told them exactly who he was (but really they were just happy to see him, not to mention excited), while Tilda was gleefully pinching his circlet and trying to balance it on her much smaller head.

He would’ve been worried were it not for the huge smile engulfing his lover’s face. 


	73. Ice skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> AU where the Bardlings teach Thranduil and Legolas how to ice skate while Bard sits on the sidelines and tries not to laugh while the normally-graceful elves figure it out, and then Thranduil manages to drag Bard out there and Bard (although he's fairly good at ice skating) falls on his ass.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard was helping Thranduil put on and lace up a pair of ice skates, he could have done it himself, but then, when did Thranduil ever do anything like this himself if he could avoid it? Besides it wasn’t like Bard minded, although he much preferred undressing him.

To be fair, it was the first time Thranduil had ever put on a pair of ice skates – however many thousands of years he had spent on middle earth and not once had he been ice skating. When Bard had found this out he decided to immediately rectify it.

The people of the Lake did it every year. There was normally a little while in the height of winter when the Lake was frozen deep enough that a fairly large but shallow inlet near the shore was safe to skate on. So a lot of the people were going down from their new home in Dale to skate, it was nice to be able to do something so carefree, the last few years had been difficult.

But things got easier ever year, Dale was almost entirely rebuilt, trade relations with Erebor were good, relations with Mirkwood were _sensational_ – especially last night, Bard didn’t know where Thranduil had learnt how to do that with his tongue, but by the Valar was he glad he had. Knowing Thranduil, he had just wanted to try it, by this point Bard knew that Thranduil wanting to try new things only ever ended well for Bard.

Bard wanting Thranduil to try new things often meant things like ice skates being strapped to his feet.

“But I do not understand, what about sliding around on ice is supposed to be enjoyable?” Thranduil asked, only the slightest hint of a whine – he really hadn’t wanted to get out of bed that morning, not that it was still anywhere near morning by Bard’s standards, although it probably had more to do with what Thranduil had wanted to do instead.

Bard had thrown the covers on the floor and chucked some clothes at him, after all, it wasn’t like he didn’t plan on doing exactly what Thranduil wanted later, not that Thranduil needed to know that. He planned to surprise him later.  

“Well, um, it just is? It’s carefree and you get to whiz around and it’s just fun.” Bard explained, Thranduil still looked unconvinced. “Oh shut up you big grump.” Bard smiled shoving the Elvenking’s shoulder slightly.

“I didn’t say anything.” Thranduil smirked back, grabbing the hand Bard used to shove him and using it to reel him in for a kiss. “What’s your excuse for sitting here and not joining in then, if it’s so much fun?”

“You know I’ve got to get through this work.” Bard reminded him, gesturing to the few scrolls he had brought down with him, planning to read through them while watching his family skate until he got through enough to join them. Although to be honest he didn’t know how long he would last, he loved ice skating far too much to resist for long.

Thranduil pouted, Bard laughed at kissed it off his face.

“Go on, get lost, or Tilda will get impatient and drag you over anyway.” Bard chuckled, putting a final kiss on his cheek, Thranduil smiled.  “Besides I’m sure all that Elven grace will make it easy for you.”

 

Oh how wrong he was.

 

Tilda took one of Thranduil’s big hands in her little ones and tugged him onto the ice at the exact same time Sigrid pulled Legolas out onto the ice.

Bard watched as Thranduil’s legs immediately went out from under him and he landed on his royal ass and the exact moment Legolas’ arms pin-wheeled and he went down too.

He could not hold in his bark of laughter, and neither could his children.

They all got a king and a prince glaring at them.

Bard had to hand it to them, they were definitely trying. They were also absolutely terrible. He was actually worried Sigrid, Bain and Tilda weren’t going to be able to breath soon with the amount they were laughing. Honestly they looked like new born deer.

It was so bizarre, seeing his children being infinitely more graceful than the two elves. Gliding around them in circles, holding their hands and skating backwards as they tried to teach them.

They were clearly starting to get the hang of it, well, they were managing a few stilted, wobbly slides before they landed on their regal behinds. Legolas really was getting better though, skating between Sigrid and Bain with a bit more stability each time. Thranduil was not. It was adorable though, Bard had no doubt the only reason he was still trying was because Tilda helped him up each time (which was cute because Thranduil was so much bigger than her) and held his hands and tried to teach him, and even in the startle of falling, he always remembered to let go of her small hands so she didn’t get pulled over too.

By the Valar he loved him.

It was after about forty minutes, countless falls from the elves and precisely no work done by Bard (because he simply couldn’t stop laughing) that Thranduil flailed once again – completely inelegantly – and went down.

Bard could swear he saw his face in slow motion the second of panic when he realised he was going down, then the sheer resignation as he did. It was hilarious and Bard was laughing so hard there were tears in his eyes and he felt like he had done a few hundred sit ups.   

“Oh if you’re so brilliant at it why don’t you come out here then?” Thranduil grumped at him from the ground, standing back up on shaky legs.

Bard grinned and pulled on his own skates, his kids cheering, they loved skating especially with their da. Bard really was genuinely quite good at skating, he’d been doing it since he was a little boy, but apparently today the gods hand other ideas.

He skated over to Thranduil, going to do a flashy slide stop next to him to slow off a little, miscalculated, hit a chink in the ice and landed on his ass and back with a thud.

On wobbly skates next to him, he could hear Thranduil absolutely cackling, Literally cackling. Bard glared before he got a mischievous twinkle in his eye, which Thranduil noticed just a second too late as Bard gave his skate a shove, sitting up slightly to catch him as he went down.

He caught his elf easily, always surprised by how light he was, like he really was made from starlight, and he gave him a shit eating grin. Thranduil tried to scowl, but he just couldn’t help the way his lips were quirking at the corners, and it was only another second before he was lunging forward, pushing Bard back on the ice and sealing them together in a searing kiss.

Bard promptly forgot where they were and how the cold was seeping through his coat as Thranduil’s tongue pushed past his lips and he buried a hand in that impossibly soft silvery hair. Thranduil let out an almost inaudible whimper as Bard nipped and sucked at his bottom lip before stroking their tongues together again.

“Daaa, ada, stop being gross.” They heard Bain groan and promptly their kissing turned to laughing.

“It’s not gross.” Bard protested, knocking and nuzzling his nose against Thranduil’s and dropping another kiss against his cheek. He was mainly doing it just to annoy his son who was groaning in embarrassment, Thranduil seemed to cotton on to this and they took great joy in getting particularly soppy about it, nuzzling and pecking at each other.

They heard Bain protest again and grinned, turning to their children, Bain was making what could only be described as an ‘ew my da and ada are kissing and I’m a teenage boy’ face, Sig was giggling – though at them or at Bain’s reaction he wasn’t sure – Tilda was grinning at them and Legolas was holding onto Sigrid so he didn’t fall as well, face palming probably wondering why he was almost a thousand years old and still having to deal with embarrassing adas.     

He and Thranduil laughed at the looks on their kids’ faces.

Then they kissed some more.

Eventually Bain and Legolas teamed up and dragged them off of each other.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One week and two days and all my deadlines will be done and I will be able to get back to writing everyday, woooo!


	74. Firefighter!Bard Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Modern au where there was no dragon but there was a terrible house fire in which thranduil’s wife died - and bard is a firefighter and thranduil fucking loses his mind every time bard gets a call
> 
> Rated: G/T idek

They first met over five years ago now, Thranduil had been sitting in his car outside the school, waiting for Legolas to appear and scamper over climb into the car and tell him about his day as he always did. But today he was chatting away to a girl that looked his age, she had mousy brown hair, a kind and pretty face and they showed no signs of stopping.

Any other day, Thranduil wouldn’t mind just sitting and waiting for his son to finish, but today he was on a tight schedule, he was going to be late to his doctor’s appointment unless they got a move on, it was just a run of the mill check-up, but still, he hated having to reschedule.

He slipped out of the car and stoically ignored all the looks he got and the whispers that still followed him. The scars down his left side always reminded people of the fire and for some reason they always felt the need to talk about it where he could just hear, he hated how good his hearing was, people clearly though they were being discreet, but he could always hear, whether he wanted to or not – there were some things you couldn’t tune out.

Honestly couldn’t they wait five minutes to start gossiping ‘oh he’s the one who was in that terrible fire’ and ‘didn’t he lose his wife in that’ ‘yes it was horrible’ ‘and god look at his face that must be so painful’ ‘so that’s him’ ‘I heard he dragged his son out and nearly burned to death when he went back for his wife’ ‘how terrible, must be so hard for him’.

Yes how terrible. But apparently not terrible enough for people to stop gossiping about it when he was right there. As if he needed more of a reminder than he got in the mirror every single morning.

“Legolas?” Thranduil called when he got a little closer, resisting the urge to call him leaf, knowing how it embarrassed him around his friends (although sometimes he did it for that exact reason, as all dad’s should, but right now he was trying to extract him from his friend and felt a little bad).

“Oh sorry ada I forgot you had an appointment. This is Sigrid, um, how about tomorrow to work on the project?” Legolas offered to her.

Thranduil really should just buy him is own car, they both knew the reason he hadn’t was because he was scared he was going to crash it, even though he knew it would make living in the middle of nowhere far easier if they both drove. But Legolas never pushed, Thranduil knew it was because Legolas was well aware of how terrified Thranduil was of losing him too.

But still, he decided then and there to let him learn, it wasn’t fair for him to be restricted by Thranduil’s worry, and he didn’t like pulling him away from his friends early all because he was worried about just about everything these days. 

“Sure, or instead of going to yours you can just come round mine now?” Sigrid suggested, looking to Thranduil for permission, she was clearly a very polite young lady, he liked her already.

“Would you be able to pick me up later?” Legolas asked, looking up at him.

“I don’t see why not.” Thranduil smiled. “Text me the address as soon as you know it, behave for Miss Sigrid’s parents.” Thranduil continued, even though Legolas was possibly the most well behaved teenage boy in existence.

“Just my dad.” Sigrid corrected him gently. “I think his shift finishes at five today. Do you want to stay for dinner, he’s a great cook, even if he’d never say so himself.” She grinned.

“So long as it’s no trouble.” Legolas checked with both Sigrid and Thranduil.

“Of course it’s not.” Sigrid beamed and when Thranduil nodded Legolas also broke out into a happy smile.

Thranduil left them to it, promising to pick up Legolas at eight, and headed to the doctor for a thoroughly routine visit. No new problems (thank god), no changes in medication (also thank god as that was always a lot of hassle), and no more general issues. Although he never liked the questions about how he was coping, at least if he answered them honestly the doctor stopped feeling the need to push at him to perhaps see a therapist.

He ran a few errands before returning to their house out in the country side. It wasn’t ideal for work or school, but it really wasn’t too far out, and Thranduil liked being away from it all, feeling like he could truly escape. It wasn’t the house where it had happened. He could never have stayed there, even if any of it had been left after the blaze consumed it all.

They didn’t have fire places in the new one. He didn’t even like the oven, but at least it was electric, there were no open flames.

It was a new house, slightly closer to the town, but still ultimately in the country side. He liked his land and all the wildlife that knew by now it was a safe place. They’d been there for about four years now.

He was on time to pick up Legolas, which was actually a miracle as he lost all concept of time when he was out in the vast gardens, although it was actually not that much of a miracle given that Legolas had texted him to remind him.

He drove up to the address Legolas had sent him, a street filled with houses on the less privileged side of town. Thranduil parked on the street outside what he hoped was Sigrid’s house assuming the sat-nav hadn’t lied to him.

He knocked on the door and wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, but he didn’t have too much time to ponder as the door swung open.

And that was a very attractive man with a small girl asleep on his hip, head tucked into his shoulder. Thranduil felt himself melt right there and then.

“Um.” The man said dumbly and it made Thranduil smirk to himself a little as he very obviously checked Thranduil out. “Can I help you?” he asked, and his voice kind of suggested ‘please say I can help you with something, anything’ Thranduil grinned internally again, he hadn’t felt like this since before the fire.

“I’m Legolas’ dad.” He replied, amusement lacing his tone, especially considering that with the long blonde hair most people made the connection themselves, really it should have been even more obvious considering that his son was in his house. He was a little smug about it if he was being honest.

“Right, no of course you are.” The man recovered himself quickly, shifting the little girl slightly as she snuffled into his shoulder, Thranduil noticed her eyes were a little red and puffy, he found himself wanting to make her smile, but he wasn’t sure how. “I’m Sigrid’s da, but um of course you know that, uh, Bard, Bard Bowman.”

“Thranduil, Thranduil Oropherion.” He teased back, enjoying the slight blush that coloured his cheeks, it was somehow fuelling his rediscovered long lost confidence.

“Yeah.” Bard almost breathed, before snapping himself out of it and stepping back to let Thranduil in. “Right if you want to make yourself comfortable. I just need to put Tilda in bed, she had a bit of a day of it, and then I’ll go get Legolas for you.”

Thranduil sat himself down on the worn but exceedingly comfy sofa and waited for Bard to get back. The room was littered with pictures, some of them had a kind looking woman in them but the more recent ones didn’t. Thranduil guessed sadly they had something in common, if they had gotten divorce he doubted there would be so many happy photos of her.

The room was messy. But it was a kind of friendly clutter, the sort that lets you know that the house is lived in and loved, well, that and that it was lived in by a single dad with three children.

“Okay I’m being told they just need half an hour more, you okay with my dazzling company for that long?” Bard grinned, plonking himself down on the sofa with Thranduil.

“I’m sure I’ll cope.” Thranduil replied, voice laced with a little flirtation as he crossed one long leg over the other and angled himself towards Bard whose eyes were definitely lingering – and for the first time since it happened, it had nothing to do with his scars.

Thranduil let himself take in Bard properly, he had noticed immediately that he was a very attractive man, and that was proved to be serious understatement. He was ruggedly handsome in all the ways Thranduil liked best, strong muscles but not bulky, tanned skin, wild shoulder length brown hair that was half pulled back to keep it out of his face, he had just the right amount of facial hair (which Thranduil wanted to feel against skin more than was appropriate having only just met), and he was somehow managing to be blend adorable and sexy together in a way Thranduil couldn’t quite get his head around.

“Uh, do you want something to drink?” Bard offered, eyes still dancing over Thranduil in a way that was making his blood run a little hotter than usual.

“What do you have?” Thranduil asked, biting his lip in a way that wasn’t strictly necessary and might’ve been a little calculated.

“Ugh, water, juice, um, wine?” Bard suggested almost coyly.

“Very tempting, but unfortunately I’m driving, as you well know.” Thranduil reminded with a raised eyebrow.

“Well, then you’ll just have to let me take you for drinks another time.” Bard continued, throwing a cheeky grin at Thranduil.

“Mr. Bowman are you asking me out?” Thranduil teased, flashing one of his old tempting smiles at him, the kind he hadn’t used since university – but apparently they still worked.

“Yep.” Bard grinned happily, popping his p. “Is that a yes?”

“Definitely.” Thranduil answered, unable to keep the happy smile off his face, Bard just looked very smug, even though Thranduil felt like he was the one who just won something.     

 

Unbeknownst to Thranduil and Bard, Sigrid and Legolas were snickering on the stairs, their grand plan to get their dad’s together having been a clear success. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask about the non-existent project.

 

It had was almost two months into their budding relationship that Thranduil had discovered what Bard did for a living.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He demanded, using anger to cover up just how much it frightened him.

“Because I didn’t want to scare you, not when I didn’t even know what this was going to be.” Bard replied, voice and face apologetic but not necessary regretful.

“So why tell me now!?” Thranduil yelled and he knew he was panicking. Bard obviously knew it too and caught his hands, stroking his thumbs soothingly over the backs of his hands.

“Because I am pretty damn sure I want this to have a future - a really long, really happy future - so I needed to tell you.” Bard explained gently.

“You think we have a future?” Thranduil asked, forgetting what he was angry about as he realised what Bard had just said, suddenly coming over shy.

He had thought he was diving in too quick, it had been terrifying him how fast he started to feel things he never expected to feel again in his life, he was more than relieved to hear he wasn’t alone.

“Well given that it’s only been two months and I’m already completely arse-over-tit in love with you I certainly hope we have a future.” Bard responded, trying and failing to hide his nerves about his confession behind humour.

“Me too.” Thranduil said quietly after a charged pause, biting his lip nervously. “I love you too.”

He had been in freefall since the moment they met, he couldn’t help the happiness and sheer relief that washed over him knowing that Bard had been too.

Bard lit up immediately and pulled Thranduil into a deep kiss which he returned happily, even though he was absolutely terrified, he had been terrified even before he found out what Bard did. Before he knew that the man he had fallen in love with alarmingly quickly willingly walks into fires on a regular basis.

“What’s wrong?” Bard questioned, concern lacing his voice as his hands smoothed over Thranduil’s worried face.

“I’m scared.” Thranduil admitted, voice small, far smaller than it had ever been with Bard before.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Bard reassured, drawing Thranduil into his arms and he tucked his head into Bard’s neck. “Because I am always going to come back. I’m careful and I have training and a whole team of people behind me who I trust unequivocally, and I promise you that every day I will come back home, and every day I get a call for a fire I will give you a call as soon as I am done and back home safely.”   

Thranduil knew that he couldn’t promise that, not really, but still Bard’s calm but firm voice and his strong arms holding onto him so tightly were grounding and soothing and soon Thranduil felt himself relax.

From that day on, Bard told him every time he was called into a fire and Thranduil wold lose his shit for the hours he didn’t hear from him. He would pace and he couldn’t eat or sleep and occasionally if it had been a particularly long time, he would cry. But Bard always called him again. Bard always got home safe.

And after another few months, which was far too soon really but was as long as they could bring themselves to wait, they moved in together. Well, Bard and the kids moved in with him and Legolas, they had plenty of room (Bard had loved teasing him about his huge house, and Thranduil was very smug when he pointed out there were enough rooms for all of them).

“Mr. Oropherion Are you asking me to move in with you?” Bard had asked teasingly when Thranduil pointed this out to him, just as Thranduil had said when Bard asked him out the first time.

“Yep. Is that a yes?” Thranduil had mimicked too, smiling at Bard like the lovesick idiot he was, but it was okay, he wasn’t the only lovesick idiot in the room.

“Definitely.” Bard had finished, and they had kissed and shared a few sappy moments smiling at each other before Thranduil had laughed and decided to celebrate by kissing Bard elsewhere.

So they moved in and Thranduil would wait in their house for Bard to get home and somehow that was even worse than waiting for a phone call but even better when he finally did get home because he would wrap Thranduil up in his arms straight away and tell him that he was okay and Thranduil could hold on to him and reassure himself that he really was there.

Some days, not often, but occasionally, Bard smelt too strongly of smoke despite the shower he always took after a fire and before he got home. And Thranduil would panic and felt like he couldn’t breathe, like it was his lungs the smoke was filling up and he couldn’t get to Bard and he would lose him just like he lost his wife.

But Bard would calm him down every time with gentle words and sure arms around him and they would get in the shower together where he could scrub off ever last remnant of smoke and ash off Bard until he was satisfied, even if it took hours for him to finally stop, Bard never hurried him.

And slowly, so slowly it wasn’t even noticeable, until suddenly it just was, Thranduil learnt not to panic, because Bard always came home. And if sometimes he was a little dirty from a fire, Thranduil started to tease him for looking so dishevelled instead of having a panic attack and corralled him into the shower to wash while he helped Tilda with her homework.

He still worried of course, he would never not worry, and he still could not sleep until Bard was home safe. But he didn’t lose it like he used to. Even though he still needed to be held extra tight those nights and sometimes still cried with relief when Bard got home, he found that he started to be able to function while Bard was out fighting a fire.

The first time he did was when Bard had to go help at a particularly bad fire at the same time as Tilda’s dance show, and well, Thranduil wasn’t going to let his little girl be without both her dads. So he had pulled himself together and gone to the show and waved at his little girl who had been absolutely perfect and had taken her out for ice cream afterwards. And when he got home, Bard had already been there waiting for him, and it had been okay.

They had gotten married the summer before Sigrid and Legolas went off to uni, Sigrid stoically refusing to go to the same one as Bain even though it was probably her favourite and her and Bain really did get along well. But neither he nor Bard were worried because it had meant her and Legolas were both heading to Surrey, they would look after each other, no doubt about that.

It had only been a small ceremony, close friends and family only. Bard had looked so handsome in his tux and he smiled at Thranduil in a way he could barely describe, it made his heart want to beat out of his chest, and he knew he smiled back in the same way.

Tilda had practically vibrated out of her skin with excitement from the moment they had told her they were getting married, and when the big day finally arrived she hadn’t stopped jumping up and down until she actually fell asleep halfway through the reception.

The honeymoon was something Thranduil would never be forgetting either. Although for far less PG reasons.

Every single week Thranduil dealt better with Bard getting called out into fires, In fact, Bard being a firefighter became almost a source of comfort to him, it was illogical he knew, but it made him feel like fire couldn’t touch them here, not in their home, not when Bard beat fires all the time. He knew that obviously wasn’t how it really worked, but for some reason, it helped, he stopped being scared of his home catching fire while they slept.

He would always worry a little, that couldn’t be helped, and occasionally he would still panic, old anxieties getting to him if Bard was at the fire longer than usual or covered in more smoke and soot than normal or sometimes for no particular reason at all other than he had let himself get scared.

But Bard would always see him through it, would never get exasperated or frustrated even though it was him who went through the fires every day. Thranduil asked him about that once, why he didn’t get frustrated at Thranduil for getting so scared even though he was the one who was literally in the fires.

“How could I ever get frustrated at you for something like that? I may be a firefighter, but I’ve never been in a fire like you’ve been in a fire.” He had replied simply, wrapping Thranduil up in his arms and stroking his hair until he fell asleep.

He loved him so much.

Sometimes it was Bard who needed to be held after a fire more than Thranduil did, it wasn’t an easy job. And they would curl up in each other’s arms and Thranduil would softly tell him about his day and all the mundane things he did and they would get through it together, and it was okay, because Bard had made a promise and he always came home.

 

Until one day, he didn’t.

 


	75. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So you know that horrible last chapter I posted (Fireman!Bard Au)? Well so many peeps have begged me to fix it that I have for once taken pity (don’t get used to it ;) ) ~ A break from the norm then as this is a direct sequel to the previous chapter
> 
> Rated: T/M (non-graphic descriptions of injuries)

 

It was three hours later than Bard would usually be home, even after a bad fire, that Thranduil officially allowed himself to panic.

Luckily Tilda was fast asleep and he managed not to wake her with his manic pacing, tearing at his hair as he tried to decide what to do, whether or not he was being stupid, letting old anxieties get to him.

The rest of the kids were midway through their term at uni and he wasn’t about to leave her on her own and he didn’t want to scare her. She wasn’t so little anymore, he knew that, but he still wasn’t prepared to frighten her like that when it might – god he prayed – that Bard was fine, just especially late.

Even though Thranduil knew that one of the guys at the station always called him if Bard was going to be especially late precisely because Bard didn’t want him to panic.

But there had been no phone call.

Mind made up, Thranduil ran quickly over to next door and knock quietly, hoping that Rosie and Sam wouldn’t be in bed yet. Thranduil was in luck as Rosie answered the door, wrapped up in a dressing gown but definitely awake.

“Thranduil? What’s wrong?” She asked seriously, having taken one look at Thranduil’s manic face and cut straight to the point.

“It’s Bard he should’ve been home hours ago and Tilda is asleep but I just I need to go find him he’s probably just at the station maybe he fell asleep I don’t know I just– ”

“Go.” Rosie told him easily, slipping on her wellys and calling up to Sam. “We’ll be over in a second, keep an eye on miss Tilda for you.”

“Thank you.” Thranduil could have hugged her right then – and Thranduil never hugged anyone who wasn’t family.

He raced back to his house and softly slipped into Tilda’s room, smoothing back her hair to gently wake her.

“Hmm, da?” she asked sleepily.

“Close, ada.”

“Wha?

“I just need to pop out for a little while. Just letting you know that Rosie and Sam will be here until I get back.” He told her, voice quiet so she barely woke as he spoke, he did not want to disturb her too much.

“But– ” She started to try and climb out of bed, despite being in that daze state before you have really woken, Thranduil stilled her gently and nudged her back down, she needed her sleep.

_It could be the last restful one for a while._

_NO_ , he would not think like that, he didn’t know anything yet. Bard could’ve just fallen asleep on the sofa at the station, or at his desk with the paperwork. And maybe his phone wasn't working either so he hadn’t called…

He wasn’t convincing himself, if anything he was making it worse.

“Shh, go back to sleep little one.” Thranduil reassured, despite the panic rising up in his throat, but he would not panic her about nothing.

He thanked Rosie and Sam as he dashed out the house and the moment he left the house he felt the overwhelming feeling of dread consume him, getting about two paces before he threw up in the bushes outside the house, images of a body with all its features charred away searing through his mind. Of Bard, blackened and skeletal and burnt beyond all recognition, and yet in his head he knew it was him. Just like he had known it was his wife.

He wouldn’t survive that again. Not again.

When he finally managed to stop retching, forcing the images in his head back, Thranduil knew he was in no state to drive and started running. He ran towards the firehouse, hoping beyond hope that he would get there and Bard would be asleep in a lump on the ratty sofa and he would be able to cry and reach out and touch him and kiss him again and it would be okay.

Bard had kissed him on the way out the house that morning. Just a casual peck on the lips before leaving for work, as he did every day, as he would have all the days to come.

Thranduil needed more of those kisses, he wasn’t done yet.

He ran and he ran, even though it was a good few miles to the firehouse. The running helped him ignore the images fighting to be seen in his head. The ones that had plagued his nightmares since day one.

But no amount of running could have left that sight unseen. His legs slowed, coming to a halt looking at the scene in the middle of the road.

Car crash. It was a car crash.

No, crash was too soft a word. It had been a car wreck.

 

And Thranduil recognised the twisted remains of one of the cars.

 

He made a beeline for it, straight pass the police tape like it wasn’t even there until a policeman caught him under the arms and stop him from going further.

“Sir, you cant be in here. Not past the line.”

“No you don’t understand.” Thranduil cried, lunging forward helplessly despite being held back.

“Sir you need to step back.”

“No no no.” Fell from Thranduil’s mouth in a frantic chant. He was close enough to see the shredded number plate. It was their car, Bard’s car the one he used for work.

“Where did they go! Where did they take him?” Thranduil demanded, he knew he sounded hysterical, he didn’t care, they were dragging the ruined metal frames away, there were no people left in the cars.

Had they been alive of dead when they were pulled free.

He didn’t know.

He needed to see him again. He needed to.

“Sir?” The policeman asked, clearly torn between frustration at Thranduil still trying to fight his way to the wreckage and concern for him.

“My husband!” He shouted, what else could he mean. “That’s his car! Where is he I need to find him. He can’t be- I can’t- he can’t.” Thranduil broke off in sobs, still fighting the officer despite his firm but careful hold on him.

Usually he would’ve been able to push past him easily, far stronger than he looked. But he was shaking too hard to find any strength beyond the rattling, desperate adrenalin that was keeping him on his feet.

“Sir I’m so sorry. The hospital, I can find someone to take you–” But Thranduil was already out of his grasp, moving in the direction of the hospital.

The one place he had never wanted to see again, the place he had woken up burned and half blind, only to be told his wife was dead.

He never wanted to go back there.

He didn’t want them to tell them he had lost another spouse.

Not again.

He hailed down the first taxi he could, clambering in the back and practically yelling at the driver to get to the hospital, he realised when they got there that he didn’t have any money.

“I’m sorry, I don’t– ” Thranduil could hardly speak, he was finding it hard to breath. He just needed to find Bard, needed to see him, breathing and full of life, then he would find air again, then the thing stamping down on his chest would disappear.

He was about to just get out and run when the driver spoke.

“Just go. I hope whoever it is, that they’re okay.” He said, full of sincerity and sadness, Thranduil reckoned that once he had not been shown the same kindness.

“Thank you.” He shouted, practically falling out of the car as he charged for the entrance, heading straight for the first desk he came across.

“Are you okay honey?” A concern nurse asked as he skidded to a halt at the desk, taking in his wild look and the tears tracking down his face uncontrolled.

“There was a car wreck, my husband, his car, I– ” Thranduil couldn’t keep his voice steady, he would have been sick again had there been anything left in his stomach.

Somehow, the rushed, panicked information he had managed to get across was enough.

“Was the crash on Waltham Road?” She enquired, voice a practiced calm, but it wasn’t doing anything to bring him down from the prolonged panic attack he was under.

He could only nod, terrified to find out what came next, what she would say next. She asked for his name, both cars had had id in them he guessed> he told her and she disappeared, telling him to sit down, she would only be a moment. But he couldn’t, he paced restlessly, shaking violently and retching despite his empty stomach.

He wondered if she had gone to check the bodies in the morgue.

After what felt like hours she returned with a woman in surgical dress, in fact she looked like she had just come out of surgery.

Thranduil couldn’t breathe.

“You’re Mr Bowman’s husband?” She asked and Thranduil nodded terrified. “Your husband is in surgery, could be for a long while yet. I am afraid there is nothing more you can do than wait.” She said in that voice doctor’s use, he hated that voice, it did not hold kind memories.

Thranduil was trembling viciously, he should sit down or he would fall but he could not move and he was already falling, losing Bard and falling without him there to catch him.

“Your husband’s injuries are extensive, it is hard to say what his chances are.” She used that voice again. “We will update you as soon as we can, but for now all you can do is wait.”

She gave him a look that was probably meant to be reassuring but made him want to be sick again. The nurse managed to get him to sit down, but only because he did not know how to fight back.

He did not know how to wait. How does anyone just wait to find out if someone is dead or alive.

Somehow, Thranduil did not know how his quivering hands managed it, nor how his heart and voice could take it, but somehow he managed to make three phone calls.

One to Bain, one to Sigrid and Legolas together on campus, and one to home. Within the hour Bain, Sigrid and Legolas were on trains, and Rosie and Sam had Tilda in his arms.

A few more hours they were all in the hospital, clinging onto each other because the only thing they could do was wait, and wait, and wait.

It was cruel.

 

 

Bard did know where he was, didn’t know what had happened, all he knew was that he hurt. God he hurt _everywhere,_ in places he had never felt, never been aware of before. And not an ache, a pain like he wasn’t tearing, but had already been ripped apart. And in other places he was numb, he could barely move.

Bard cracked his eyes slowly and despite the pain and the drugs that were making him fuzzy and groggy, he noticed two things.

That he was in a hospital, the unmistakeable tell-tale signs all over the room that was clearly not his. And that his children and husband were littered around the room, all sporting the same dark circles and ruined expressions.

It wasn’t difficult to work out what had happened.

The kids were asleep in the corner, Sigrid and Tilda cuddled together on the sofa, Bain in the armchair adjacent, hand gripping Tilda’s visibly tightly, even in sleep, and Legolas at the other end of the sofa, his sisters’ legs strew across his lap as he held onto them too.

Thranduil head his head collapsed on the bed by Bard’s waist, but carefully not touching him or knocking him in anyway. Bard doubted he had moved, even without having any concept for how long he had been here.

With all the strength he could summon as his muscles and bones protested violently, Bard nudged his fingers against Thranduil’s shoulder, he shot up immediately, staring at Bard bolt-eyed like he wasn’t entirely sure if it was real, if Bard had really opened his eyes and moved his hand.

“Hey pretty.” Bard croaked, voice small and scratchy and almost inaudible, but there all the same.

Thranduil jolted up from his chair but then very carefully touched his hands to Bard’s face, like he was checking his wasn’t dreaming.

“B-bard?” God his voice was so small and scared and shaking, it cut through his heart. He hated himself for being the cause of it.

“Yeah, I’m here.” He replied through his own weak voice.

Thranduil collapsed ever so carefully next to him and just breathed deeply. Bard knew his panic attacks well, he would guess he had not taken a proper breath since it had happened, however long ago that was.

He didn’t know if he should, didn’t even know if he could until he did it, but Bard forced all of his energy into his left arm and lifted it up holding Thranduil as best he could, and Thranduil just finally let himself breathe.

They stayed like that for a while, until Thranduil had finished his long gulps of air and had found some kind of even breathing pattern, until he had finally come down from his panic.

“You were worrying about the wrong thing all along.” Bard joked and his voice was thin and strained and it wasn’t really funny when you thought about it but Thranduil couldn’t help the cathartic laugh that escaped him almost violently, releasing a dam of tears and sitting back. At least Bard knew they were from relief.

It woke the children and they scrambled up from the sofa.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lot move so fast from sleeping.” His thin and shaking voice managed to tease, the relief that washed over every one of the kids upon hearing it was well worth the burn it cause his throat to speak.

 

 

It was a long, hard recovery, but it was just that, a recovery.

 


	76. Protective Bardlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> BarduilPrompt? I have yet to see people do a fic where one of the couples get that warning that parents usually give to the one dating their child! I was thinking if we could have Thranduil noticing subtle warnings from Bardlings and close friends?
> 
> Rated: G

 

It was probably disbelief over obliviousness that caused Thranduil to notice what was happening a little slower than he would usually expect of himself. Really he couldn’t be blamed for being a little slow on the uptake because it was completely ridiculous.

He was the Elvenking for Valar sake, it was completely absurd, and it would’ve been absolutely unacceptable had it been any of his own subjects doing it. But it wasn’t, it was Bard’s friends and his children.

Another reason he was a tad surprised by the ‘warnings’ the children gave him, was that he got along exceedingly well with them. He had barely been able to contain his relief when they had accepted him so readily, and then he had barely been able to contain his heart as they began to treat him more and more like one of the family.

“Part of the team already.” Bard had smiled at Thranduil’s dumbstruck expression as he had handed Tilda her lunch, and she had exclaimed ‘thank you ada’ given him a quick hug and scampered off, leaving Thranduil stood there trying to process what had just happened. 

“She called me ada.” Thranduil stated dumbly.

“Yeah, is uh, that okay?”

Thranduil had apparently lost his words so he just nodded fervently – far too fervently for a regal and reserved Elvenking, but he was giving himself a free pass in that moment – Bard had laughed and kissed him on the nose.

Which is why it was a bit odd – and a little belated at this point – that Bard’s friends and family had started dropping warnings.

He only realised what Bard’s friends had been doing in hindsight, they were clearly far too aware of Thranduil’s reputation, and indeed just his standing as king, to do more than mutter out very confusing rambles about what his intentions with Bard were. At the time Thranduil had frowned puzzled by them and written them off as strange quirks of mortals that he didn’t understand.

In retrospect he could see that they were probably intended as some kind of warning to Thranduil, like they were checking his motives to be, what? Pure? Noble? Genuine? Honestly Thranduil was just curious about what exactly they had planned on doing about it if had he lied and said something completely outrageous like ‘I plan to string him along for a while so that I can enjoy the more carnal pleasures he can provide me with, before abandoning him when he gets too attached’. Of course that was not true, but what were they even planning on doing if it was? He was the Elvenking for goodness sake.

Luckily for them he had not noticed at the time, and looking back he found it more amusing than impertinent.

Perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised that the children decided to issue out their own warnings, they were fiercely protective of their father after all. But it was surprising that it took so long for them to decide to do it.

 

Among the children it started with Bain, which he guessed made some kind of sense – well, as much as any of these warnings made sense, he would sooner cut off his own arm before harming a hair on Bard’s head.

He had received the strange and somewhat awkward warning while he and Bain were patching up a hole that had appeared in the roof of the little house in Dale they were currently living in. Thranduil had told him many times it was not fit for a king and they should obviously just come and live with him in Mirkwood. Forever. Which always got him a fond shake of the head and a kiss.

Never did Thranduil think he would be sat with a mortal boy who he already couldn’t help but consider like his own son, on the roof of a small house, patching a hole. And Thranduil wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Actually that wasn’t true, he would quite like Bard and his family not to have holes in the roof at all, but that wasn’t the point.

Anyway, Bain had just finished nailing down the final piece of wood – it was hardly attractive but would at least keep the rain out – when he looked at Thranduil with a suddenly serious expression.

“If you hurt him…” Bain started before trailing off quickly, like he wasn’t sure how exactly that sentence ended, not now that Thranduil was already close enough to their little family for him – the Elvenking – to be sat up in a rickety roof in normal clothes helping him to fix things.

Thranduil had looked at him as if to say ‘you’ll what?’, but then he really realised what Bain was doing, and that really it was just a reflection on how much he loved his da, and if anything, his inability to finish the sentence was a compliment to how quickly Thranduil had become part of the family as well.

“I’d never be able to forgive you ada.” Bain finished quietly.

“Neither would I.” Thranduil answered sincerely, catching Bain’s averted eyes and looking at him so that he knew just how much Thranduil meant that before squeezing his shoulder. Bain had nodded like he knew that was going to be the answer all along – which he probably did – and they had gotten back to work.

 

Sigrid was far more, well, Sigrid, about it.

They had been out by the lake in midsummer, having miraculously persuaded Bard to take the afternoon off (he was at least getting slightly better at delegating, but they still had a ways to go), when Sigrid had sat down beside him in the grass.

They just sat together for a while, Thranduil unable to shift his soft, vulnerable smile that he would never let anyone outside his family see, as he watched Bard mess around with Tilda in the water.

“You make him so happy.” Sigrid had said as Bard grinned and waved at them before chasing Tilda some more.

“And he does me.”

“I know. I just wanted to check.”

“Check what?”

“That you were sure about this.” Her voice was gentle, and it only took him a moment to realise what exactly she was talking about.

“I’m sure.” Thranduil had swallowed after a pause, throat suddenly tight. He wasn’t sure if it was from what he had just acknowledged or because of just how caring Sigrid was, how much she seemed to be checking he was okay with what that meant just as much as protecting her father.

“I am glad ada.” And she had smiled at him so genuinely in that moment that it was all Thranduil could do to lift up his arm and tuck her into his side and squeeze her tight, giving her soft brown hair a firm and sure kiss.

Yeah, he was sure.

 

Tilda had been by far the most amusing.

He was carrying her around because she couldn’t reach the top cupboards in the little kitchen, but was insisting that she knew where everything was so she needed to be able to reach, and besides, it wasn’t like Thranduil minded carrying his little girl around. When out of the blue as she was passing him a jar she had puffed out her little chest, poked Thranduil in his and in her best attempt at a stern voice (which was more cute than anything) she stated:

“Ada, you’re not allowed to hurt da. Or me. You’re just not allowed to leave, okay?”

“Okay, pen-neth.” Thranduil had replied simply.

Tilda had beamed and he had pressed a big sloppy kiss on her cheek making her giggle until she finally batted him away and that was that.

He had officially been warned by all the children, although why they waited until he was already one of the pack before doing it was completely beyond him.

When he had asked Sigrid why it took them so long, she had explained easily, always level-headed and ready with a simple explanation and a smile. 

“I think you just fell into the family so well that we didn’t even notice until you we were already calling you ada.” Sigrid had explained with a fond smile when he had inquired while they made dinner, well, she made dinner while Thranduil watched and learnt from her how to make Bard’s favourite meal.

“So why do it at all?”

“I think Bain did it as a matter of principle, and Tilda just did it because both of us did.”

“What about you, pen-vuil? You must know I would never hurt your father.”

“Yes I know that. But I am also not so naive to think that this is at all simple for you.”

“That we are both kings does make it more complicated, yes.”

“That was not what I was talking about and you know it. I wanted to make sure that you were sure. I could never blame you for leaving, neither could da, but I just needed to know that you weren’t going to let him fall completely in love with you before you realised the implications and ran. Although to be honest it is probably too late already.” She had finished with a small smile.

He hadn’t known what to say, but Sigrid, ever intuitive – she was going to make an excellent mother one day – had just asked him to pass the flour and they went right back to cooking.

 

A few weeks after Thranduil received his warnings, they were all out in the woods, Legolas taking a moment from spoiling the children and chasing them up trees and generally revelling in having little siblings, to stand with Bard, leaning back in the sun against some trees and taking a look over Bard’s splintering bow to see if it could be salvaged.

“I hear your children have been cautioning my father not to hurt you or risk incurring their eternal wrath.” Legolas joked with an amused quirk to his lips as he looked up from the bow.

“So I hear.” Bard chuckled. “Any warnings for me, light threats, outright intimidation tactics?”

“You will love him until the day you die, I can see that in your every action.” Legolas stated simply, but his voice was now tinged with sadness, though Bard did not know why, but Bard still smiled at the words, they were true after all.

“Yeah, I will.” He affirmed easily, looking to where Thranduil was placing crowns of woven daisies on top of his children’s heads – including Bain.

“Which is how I know that my warnings would be useless, this will end in sadness for him even though you will love him until your dying breath.” Legolas’ words caught Bard in the heart, he had done so well at not thinking about it. But the elf’s voice was not accusatory, just melancholy.

“Legolas –” Bard started, but he was not sure what he was planning on saying, it did not matter, Legolas cut him off gently before he could continue.

“But I would not ask you to stop. I have not seen my father smile so easily in a very long time and I would have him enjoy it while he can.” Legolas sent him a weak but honest smile, and Bard knew he meant every word.

“I – ”

“Know that when you hurt him, as you will be helpless to stop, I will be here to get him through it. Even if I have to drag him by his hair, as will my new siblings I have no doubt.” Legolas’ expression was a strange mix of melancholy and fondness, but it was completely and utterly sincere.

Bard swallowed thickly, he appreciated what Legolas was doing, more than he could possibly express. He was telling him it was okay, that he would make sure Thranduil was okay. And that meant more than Bard knew how to put into words.

“So I guess my warning to you is this: Do not dare waste the time you have.” Legolas finished simply.

“I won’t, I promise.”

 

And he kept that promise until the end of his days.


	77. University!Au Thranduil needs models for a photography project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Imagine a modern AU in which Bard desperately needs extra cash FAST and someone points out that hey there's an ad looking for new models and the pay is INSANE and Bard really doesn't think he has a chance but he really has like zero other options and
> 
> ~ I feel like there was probably a second part to this prompt, but unfortunately if that is indeed the case then it never made it to my askbox :S But anyway I have done my best 
> 
> Rated: T

 

God this was a bad idea. It was in fact possibly the worst idea Bard had ever had – which was seriously saying something because he had once decided it would be a great idea to let his friends take him out before his archery championship and had turned up the next day completely hung-over (well he thought he was hung-over, in reality he was actually still drunk from the night before) and had almost shot the spectators.

It was okay though because he didn’t actually shoot anyone and when he went beck the next year (because for some reason they hadn’t banned him) he completely wiped the floor with everyone.

And this was possibly _more_ stupid than that, well, there was slightly less risk to bodily injury, but far more risk of utter humiliation.

Well, uni was where you were supposed to do stupid shit anyway right?

Christ he was going to get laughed out of the room.

But needs must, and Bard really, _really_ needed the money.

The rent was due in three days and between his books and bills and you know, feeding and clothing himself, his loan just hadn’t been able to stretch far enough this term, and to top it off, he’d been let go from his part time job for mouthing off about The Master where Alfrid could hear.

And Bard really really really didn’t want to ask his parents for money because they don’t have enough as it is, and his housemates would help him out but Bard didn’t want to take it when he had no idea when he was going to be able to pay them back.

So when there were flyers in the student union offering a considerable amount of money to come model for Thranduil Oropherion’s dissertation project, Bard had to at least try. It would be a little odd, Bard thought, given that no matter who turned up to model, the person behind the camera was still going to be prettiest

Knowing that bastard (which Bard didn’t really, so maybe, knowing _of_ that bastard would be better phrasing) he probably was very pissed that he couldn’t just take photos of himself. He obviously knew he was the most beautiful thing to hit the planet since, well, ever as far as Bard was concerned. Not that he had a crush, no way, he didn’t _crush_ on anyone, let alone pretty rich boys ten million miles out of his league.

(Only he totally did and he was).

Bard wouldn’t being crushing on him, looks weren’t enough to sway him, were it not for the fact that as he paid more attention, he discovered that spoiled little rich boy though he may be, and despite his reputation as an asshole, he also ran the uni’s environmental schemes, volunteered at the local animal shelter and would probably literally kill for his friends. And well, Bard couldn’t be blamed for being kind of helpless against that.

It was a little weird that he was offering money, people usually offered baked goods as a bribe to get people to participate in dissertation projects, but Bard guessed it probably didn’t matter to someone as rich as Thranduil if he paid you in money or donuts.

(Bard was hoping the pay wasn’t a result of what the photo-shoot might entail, surely the flyer would’ve said if the photos were going to be somewhat clothing optional, right?)

One thing that the flyer did say was that Thranduil reserved the right to turn you away if you were not what he was looking for (which was clearly code for ‘not attractive enough’).

Bard knew that he wasn’t _bad_ to look at, but he wouldn’t exactly call himself anything special, his clothes were old and worn (because let’s be honest they were a way down the list of things to buy, behind things like food, and heating and textbooks), his hair was always messy because he was always in a rush, he was always a little sweaty from the training and the constant rushing, and his little beard thing was never as neat as it should be.

So right now he was probably about to get laughed away for not being attractive enough by the guy he may or may not be slightly hot for. Not for the first time he considered running away before knocking on the door, but he was getting a bit desperate as far as his financial situation went.

The uni was happy to buy him his equipment and university training kit for his archery – very good press to have someone tipped for the Olympics at your uni apparently – but when it came to his actual living expenses, they weren’t so generous.

Bard didn’t want to seem ungrateful, because there was no way he could support his archery without the uni, and he really was beyond flattered at being made university sports captain. But still, he was having trouble getting by and he did have his priorities straight so he would rather be getting help with that.

So, steeling himself for some potentially pretty humiliating rejection (kind of like the time he had entertained the thought of asking the blonde bombshell out before chickening out and running away) he knocked on the door to the mansion Thranduil stayed in (because of course he couldn’t live in normal student digs like the rest of them).

The door swung open to reveal a bored looking Thranduil. Bard might’ve been staring, but it wasn’t like he got a close up very often. And really who wouldn’t stare? The guy’s hair alone was reason enough to stare (and have prolonged fantasies about what it might feel like to bury his hands in that silken silvery mane).

And it may well have been his imagination, but he could swear to god as his eyes flicked up to Bard’s, the bored look immediately slipped off his face and was replaced by some sort of flustered expression. And was he _straightening out his clothes_? As if there was anything wrong with them in the first place.

“Bard, what are you doing here?” He asked, running a hand through his already perfect hair.

“Um, the flyer sa- wait, how do you know my name?” Bard realised, more than a little shocked

“You’re the university sports captain tipped for the Olympics, everyone knows your name.”

“You don’t do any sport.” Bard pointed out, even though as sports captain he only would’ve remembered something like that if he was paying some serious attention

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to watch.”

“Archery has got to be the most boring sport to watch ever.” Bard joked, because really all they did was stand there and aim at targets (he supposed there was an added element of peril when one of the competitors arrives a tad tipsy).

“I wasn’t watching for the sport.” Was what he could have sworn Thranduil muttered under his breath before blushing a little and why the hell was he blushing?

(Not that that slight dusting of red didn’t look delectable on those alabaster cheeks).

“Uh, I saw you flyer and well I could use the money if I’m okay for the shoot?” bard said awkwardly after a bit of a pause, scratching the back of his neck a little nervously, god he felt like an idiot. “Don’t worry, I’ll just, um, leave, sorry, obviously I’m not right for a photo-shoot.” Bard laughed self depreciatingly when Thranduil made no move to invite him in, looking a little confused, probably trying to process the mere idea of Bard as a model. God this was embarrassing.

“Right, uh, see you around.” Bard mumbled turning to leave, trying not to let his disappointment show, Thranduil didn’t even think he was good looking enough for a photo shoot then he was glad he had never actually plucked up the courage to ask him out. That would have been seriously humiliating.

“Wait.” Thranduil all but yelled, grabbing Bard’s arm as he turned to leave, bard sent him a confused look and he quickly dropped his arm looking even more flustered than before. “You’re here because of my flyer?”

Bard nodded and he could’ve sworn he heard Thranduil mutter something about doing it ages ago if that was all it took, maybe he was late doing his project?

Bard followed as Thranduil led the way into the huge house, up and into a room that was bare other than the white sheets strew up to create a blank canvas.

“I need you to take your shirt off.” Thranduil told him as he started setting up the camera, trying to hide his blush behind it.

“Um, okay. Just my shirt right?” Bard checked (not that he would mind stripping for him one bit, but preferably not in this context).

“Yeah.” Thranduil confirmed, biting his lip a little, and he really did have beautifully pouty lips.

Bard pulled off his soft shirt and stood in the middle of the room more than a little awkwardly, clueless about what he was supposed to do now. Thranduil looked up from setting up his camera only for his eyes to grind to a halt on Bard’s chest, mouth dropping open into a little ‘o’.

And Bard was definitely staring at his mouth, it was such a pretty mouth. And those piercing blue eyes were stuck on his chest – his admittedly quite toned chest. Maybe he was just studying his subject? Didn’t artists and photographers do that?

“Um, I’m not really sure what to do, I’ve never exactly modelled before.” Bard pointed out awkwardly.

“Shame.” Thranduil smirked and suddenly it was Bard doing the blushing. “But that’s good, I don’t want to use professional models, it would defeat the point.”

The point, as far as Bard could grasp – he was about as artistic as a blind camel – was something about capturing a more natural, vulnerable subject, unused to being under that kind of scrutiny. Bard didn’t really get it, but he supposed that didn’t really matter, that might even be part of the point.

Thranduil was taking pictures a mile a minute, alternating between getting very close and being far off, Bard had never felt so exposed in his entire life, but in a weird way he had never felt so desired either. He wasn’t sure if that was because of the camera or because of the way Thranduil was looking at him.

Thranduil took photos off him him standing and sitting and lying down and looking away and looking at the camera, but when he had him keeling and looking up at him Bard knew he wasn’t the only one with a blush riding on his cheeks. He had also bitten his lip in a way that wasn’t strictly necessary. It had had the desired effect, darkening Thranduil’s look into something momentarily hungry.

Eventually, and with what looked like a little reluctance, Thranduil finished the shoot, apparently having got what he needed – although Bard still didn’t understand exactly what that was, he really hoped he hadn’t just wasted a load of Thranduil’s time.  

“So are you sure I was okay for your shoot?” Bard asked tentatively.

“What? Of course you are, do you own a mirror?” Thranduil replied like that was the stupidest question he had ever heard.

“Yes.” Bard answered indignantly, pulling his shirt back on.

“Well then you presumably know what you look like.”

“Messy hair and worn out clothes.” Bard joked at his own expense, something which by the look on Thranduil’s face, he didn’t appreciate one bit.

“Or you might chose to focus on the way your dark hair perfectly complements your eyes? Eyes that give away just how kind you are by the way. Or how your beard wouldn’t work on anyone else but god do you pull it off. Or how your skin looks irresistibly sun kissed. Or how you have somehow managed to blend adorable and ridiculously hot in a way that should not be possible. Or how no matter what clothes you put on, no matter how old or ‘worn’ you never fail to look utterly edible. And that’s not even going into what you look like without a shirt on.”

“…you think I’m hot?” Is all Bard managed to respond with, genuinely confused by this revelation, or was Thranduil just being objective? Like how objectively Bard knew his best friend was very very pretty, but he would still never, _ever_ , go there.

“Yeah.” Thranduil responded slowly, blushing all over again but it was an almost defiant blush, challenging Bard to object to his statement.

“Theoretically.” Bard started, leaning on the door frame. “If I were to, say, ask you out. Would you say yes?”

“Obviously, although I would have to wonder why you wanted to take me out.”

“Do you own a mirror?” Bard grinned back.

“Quite. But we both know that you are not the kind to date someone just because of their looks, it’s hardly a secret that you’re a complete sweetheart. I on the other hand am a spoiled rich kid who fly’s by on my father’s coattails – whether I want to or not – so why on earth would you, selfless, hardworking you, be at all interested in someone like me.”

“Maybe because I happen to know that when Tauriel’s boyfriend died you didn’t leave her professor’s office until he granted her an extension. Or how I know it was you that lead the mini-Greenpeace protest when they wanted to get rid of the park to build a completely surplus car-park. Or how about the time that you rescued that little baby deer, shall I go on?”

“Been paying attention have we?” Thranduil smirked with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t appear to have been the only one.” Bard countered.

“Indeed not.” Thranduil practically leered at him.

“So, that date.” Bard grinned.

“Theoretically?” Thranduil teased with a lecherous look that was making Bard want to lose his shirt again.

“Not even a little.” Bard shot back, smirking and completely serious.

“Is right now a good time?”

“I think I can squeeze you in.”

“I am honoured.”

Bard laughed and reeled in a smirking Thranduil into a long and messy kiss that rather quickly turned into a pretty heated make-out session, before Bard declared that he would not sully Thranduil’s honour without at least buying him dinner first. But as he couldn’t afford a restaurant at the moment, Bard took him home and they had microwavable chips instead, much to Thranduil’s delight.

Bard became the sole subject of Thranduil’s entire final project.

He had to ban Thranduil from using some of the photos, they were most definitely for his eyes only.

“Its art Bard, don’t be such a prude.”

“Thran, they’re dirty photos and you know it. And you are well aware that I am not a prude.” Bard said, referring to exactly what they had been doing only a few hours ago.

“Arthouse Bard, they’re arthouse.” Thranduil teased, at least Bard was fairly sure he was just teasing.

“Well fine, I mean if you want anyone other than you to see me like that…” Bard teased right back, laughing as Thranduil quickly shoved the photos in his personal folder – decidedly not his portfolio – and scowled at Bard.

“Just me.” Thranduil practically growled, wrapping his arms around Bard’s waist, practically plastering them together and getting a laugh out of Bard at his possessiveness.

“I wasn’t the one who was suggesting any differently.” Bard pointed out, running a hand through that beautiful and impossibly soft hair – it had become one of his favourite things to do.

Thranduil apparently decided he still needed to prove his point by sucking in what would be a rather dark hickey on Bard’s neck where he had no chance of covering it up.

A photo of that did go in the project.

Thranduil probably would’ve put it on a billboard with the caption ‘property of Thranduil, hand’s off’ if Bard had let him.

Instead Bard made sure Thranduil was always sporting a matching mark on his pearly white skin, and because apparently Thranduil was a sappy shit who really like Bard showing his affection in public, he made sure to hold his hand and kiss him freely and without hesitation.

He accepted absolutely no responsibility for any semi-public sex that may have happened in the car…and toilets…and archery range. Thranduil had a bit of an exhibitionist kink it would seem, loving it when they might get caught – or he was just a possessive fucker – either way it was all completely Thranduil’s idea, he was a terrible influence.

(Lies, Thranduil may have started it, but Bard made sure it kept happening, and tried to make Thranduil as loud as possible, no matter the location).

 

Thranduil aced his final project and Bard aced the Olympics, twice.

 

But he was far more proud of how he aced his proposal.

 

 


	78. Bard has a pavlovian response to the name Dragonslayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Thranduil makes such a habit of doing or saying this one thing during their lovemaking that Bard develops a bit of a Pavlovian response where, whenever Thrandy does/says the same thing in an innocent context, he still can't help but react and Thrandy notices. ;) Cue smug/mischievous elf shenanigans?
> 
> Rated: M

Bard really couldn’t be blamed. It was in no way, shape or form his fault. It was completely and utterly Thranduil’s fault. But unfortunately whether it the fault or the ridiculous elf next to him or not, Bard was still the one with the problem.

 See, Thranduil had a penchant for calling him ‘Dragonslayer’ and only ‘Dragonslayer’ when they were, well, yeah. He would moan it and beg him by it and shout it as he came and really it would’ve been absurd if Bard didn’t find it _so damn hot_.

Other people called him ‘Bard the Dragonslayer’ of course, and it was a little weird knowing that that was what Thranduil liked to call him in bed, but other than that it was fine.

But it was apparently completely not fine when Thranduil suddenly decided to start using it outside of the bedroom.

Seriously what reaction did Thranduil expect when every other memory of Thranduil calling him that had been whined and whimpered out during sex?

It was not his fault.

It was in a meeting with the dwarves (of course it was) that Thranduil decided to start calling him ‘Dragonslayer’ outside of their more extra-curricular activities and it immediately became clear to Bard that he had apparently developed an automatic response to that name.

Again it was not his fault. It was in no way his fault that Thranduil always whispered something dirty involving the term ‘my Dragonslayer’ into his ear when he wanted them both out of their clothes. For Valar sake up until this moment it had basically been code for ‘I’m horny lets go have awesome sex’.

So now Bard was sat in a meeting with the dwarves with a completely inappropriate hard-on (thank the gods for the table) because Thranduil had called him ‘my Dragonslayer’ in some stupid my-horse-is-bigger-than-your-horse battle with Dain.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

Bard completely ignored the rest of the meeting in favour of willing away the problem in his trousers to vamoose before he had to get up.

He managed it, just.

He would’ve been angry, or at least a little annoyed, but then that night Bard was fucking him hard and Thranduil moaning and panting out ‘Dragonslayer’ so loudly that it was difficult to feel any kind of annoyance at the word.

Bard was lulled into a false sense of security over the next few weeks, going without hearing the word from Thranduil other than in the context it belonged as far as Bard was concerned. It was while the people of Dale were coming to Bard with various problems that it happened again.

He was sat in the modest throne in the great hall, seeing the people who had problems one by one, doing his best to help all those that he could, and Thranduil was somehow making lounging look regal in the throne next to his own.

One of the towns people had been doing the usual thanking spiel to Bard for being a good king, something he would endeavour to be for his entire life, when Thranduil piped up next to him.

“Not just a king, a _Dragonslayer_.” Bard could practically hear the leer in his voice, Thranduil was no doubt bored and probably had no idea what he was doing to Bard, but this shouldn’t take much longer then he could have Bard’s undivided attention again.

Bard did have to spend the remainder of the meetings with his legs crossed and arms strategically placed. He hoped it didn’t look too unnatural, Valar only knows what Thranduil would do with the knowledge.

 

It was about a month before Bard discovered exactly what Thranduil would do with the knowledge, and he was torn between being angry and coming in his breeches.

What had happened, was a couple more times, pretty sporadically, Thranduil had called him ‘Dragonslayer’ and Bard had had his rather awkward reaction to it. He had hoped he would get used to it and stop, but it was difficult when Thranduil only said it in public occasionally whereas it fell like a chant from those panting, pouty lips of his every single night.

However, Bard then noticed it becoming slightly less sporadic, and he could swear Thranduil was smirking when he surreptitiously shifted his position to hide his problem.

And he certainly would not put it past the bastard to be doing it on purpose.

But he still didn’t bring it up and give him a good telling off for it (not that he didn’t enjoy it when Bard told him off) on the off chance that he really hadn’t noticed it yet.

He was proved the next day that Thranduil was well aware of it, which had led to his current situation, that being torn between being angry and coming in his breeches.

It was in the bi-monthly meeting between Mirkwood, Dale and Erebor – always held in Dale as some kind of neutral ground – and Thranduil had called him ‘Dragonslayer’, but he did so in a voice just slightly too sultry for innocence and Bard had an even fast response than usual.

He shifted his chair further forward to hide himself under the table a little more and glared at Thranduil, and the bastard smirked. Of course he did.

Then the fucker _kept using it_ , deciding that it was in fact the only term he was going to refer to him by for the rest of the meeting. And if the Dwarves thought it was odd, they certainly didn’t show it, they probably just thought it was Thranduil marking his territory or something.

After talking for a bit about when he wanted out of the alliance, mainly to do with trade, Thranduil settled back into his chair and rested a hand on Bard’s knee, which wasn’t too out of the ordinary, although it wasn’t exactly helping his problem, about which Thranduil was no doubt well aware.

Bard stoically ignored him and continued to try and focus on what the dwarves were saying. So naturally Thranduil dragged his hand up and started rubbing circles in the inside on his thigh, just centimetres away from where his cock was straining against his trousers.

This was so uncalled for.

Bard was resolved to ignore it, he’d just have to not leave the table until all the dwarves were gone, then he would be having words with Thranduil – but only after they had thoroughly resolved his problem.

He could take being teased for another hour or so, he wasn’t a teenager.

However, he couldn’t take Thranduil running his hand over the prominent bulge in his breeches and squeezing him lightly.

Bard caught his gasp and turned it into a cough as best he could.

“Can you give us a moment? There are a few things I need to discuss with King Thranduil. Urgently.” Bard grit out, glaring at Thranduil – who looked torn between thinking his game had been ruined and happy that he was almost certainly about to get exactly what he wanted.

The dwarves did look confused now, but Bard saw Dain grinning as they left the room, clearly getting the wrong impression from Bard’s glare at Thranduil. Because Bard could guarantee Thranduil was going to enjoy the scolding he was about to get.

He was just about to growl out a warning and a telling off to Thranduil, but before he could he had a lapful of Elvenking and a tongue in his mouth.

He kissed Thranduil back ferociously, biting and sucking more than kissing if they were bring honest, but Thranduil hardly minded, rolling his hips down onto Bard’s wantonly.

“Dragonslayer.” Thranduil purred into his ear, and that was apparently the final straw and Bard started ripping at Thranduil’s clothes, the elf in his lap also frantically trying to lose them.

“You are in so much trouble.” Bard growled, landing a smack against Thranduil now bared lush ass startling a whimper out of him. But they didn’t really have time for that now, that would have to wait until later.

Luckily no one came back in while Thranduil was riding him like it was his last night on arda.

Although he didn’t hold out much hope of people not having heard.

Dain made it clear Dale was no longer considered ‘neutral ground’.   

It was definitely worth it.


	79. Shy!Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are there any stories where Bard is the one initiating the relationship and not the shy one? I know there’s a lot where Thranduil is obvious with his interest and Bard just thinks there’s no way the Elvenking would be interested in him, but are there any where it’s the other way around? Like Bard is super flirty and Thranduil’s the one that gets awkward and shy? Canon compliant, definitely, I want to see the ancient Elvenking tongue-tied and acting like a freaking Elfling with their first crush. ‘Cause you know he’s going to be so angry at himself for it, and over a mortal to boot
> 
> Rated: G

 

Thranduil couldn’t be more annoyed with himself. Honestly he was the Elvenking and he was behaving like an elfling with his first crush.

He could charm mortals and elves alike into his bed with no trouble.

It was somewhat harder when you were more interested in charming your way into someone’s heart instead.

The problem was that apparently Thranduil completely lost the ability to string sentences together whenever it came to a certain Dragonslayer. He got _flustered_ for Valar sake, he was the Elvenking it simply wouldn’t do for him to get flustered over anything. He was regal, stoic, notoriously icy, elegant and arrogant king.

Until the Bowman paid him a compliment when he became a bashful, stammering, blushing mess.    

It was ridiculous. _He_ was apparently ridiculous.

What was worse was that they were compliments that he heard every damn day, comments on his hair and his great beauty and his prowess in battle and they had never made him bat so much as an eyelash before, he had never even cared for compliments, after all he had a mirror, he was well aware of what they were telling him already.

But for some reason, the moment the compliment fell wholly sincerely from those utterly kissable lips with that enticing lilting voice, Thranduil completely lost his own ability to speak, or at least, speak coherently.

“You know your hair really is utterly beautiful, it’s as though the stars themselves have been spun into it.” Bard had said a few weeks ago, face open and honest and gods Thranduil just wanted him to run his hands through it, or pull on it – but that was in a significantly different context.  

“Oh, I, yours is, I mean, thank you.” He had blushed furiously and Bard had given him a soft little smile before continuing what he was doing. Thranduil could’ve sworn that even then there was something playful and mischievous about that smile, he was almost certain now that that had indeed been the case.

He thought this because, since that first incident, Bard had started paying him more compliments and rendering him unable to form a non-stammered sentence, that he had become just generally shy around him now, blushing terribly when he so much as looked at him, which would then only lead to another cheeky smile from the mortal.

And once he had caught a glimpse of that cheeky smile, he knew it was only a matter of time before Bard wandered over and had an even deep dusting of red dancing across his pale cheeks. Honestly, it wasn’t even as if Bard was saying anything that warranted blushing, well, up until now apparently.

Thranduil was sorting through some papers in his tent – really there was no excuse for to still be in Dale – when one of his guards announced that the soon to be king of Dale was asking to be allowed in.

He granted him entrance of course, and for the first time in weeks, he did not immediately start blushing. Which was incredible really because it was the first time Bard had ever been in his tent and really his mind should have been running wild, but instead he was a little too caught up in the letters he was reading, his border patrols having more problems with the ungoliants that for the first time in Bard presence since the battle, his mind was well and truly preoccupied with something that wasn’t the Dragonslayer.

“I will be with you in one moment Bard, I just need to sort this out.” Thranduil explained, blissfully coherently, as he started writing out a reply in his flowing script. Bard leant against the large dresser in a way that would’ve been highly distracting if Thranduil had been paying attention.

Whether he was behaving like an elfling with their first crush or not, he was still a king and still perfectly capable of acting like it when need be. He knew he’d be back to blushing like a fool the moment he sent Feren away with the letters.

And that was indeed what happened.

“How can I help you Bard?” Thranduil asked, and Eru help him why was he looking at the floor and fighting a blush!?

He was ridiculous and this was definitely going to end up ruining his reputation as a regal king.

“I was just wondering how long you plan on staying with us?” Bard asked with a impish little twinkle in his eye, they both knew Thranduil really didn’t need to be here anymore, and they both knew why he still was.

“Oh, um, if you wish for us to leave, I guess, I mean I– ”

“No no, not at all, I was just going to offer you a room in my home, unless you’d rather stay in this tent of course.”

“Oh, no yes, I’d much rather stay with you.” Thranduil managed to get out with only marginal stumbling, however there was not much he could do about the deep read on his cheeks at this point, he bit his lip a little embarrassed and saw Bard’s eyes go a tad darker, which only served to make him blush deeper.

Really, he knew what they both clearly wanted, usually he would have no problem just taking it without a hint of shyness. But that was not all he wanted, and therein lay the problem.

“Excellent.” Bard smiled, but he had a mischevious little glint in his eye, it was hardly helping Thranduil’s blushing situation, he had never know a mortal so cheeky before, and he wasn’t even sure why.

It was a few moments later that something occurred to Thranduil.

“I didn’t know you had a spare room?” He asked, knowing that Bard had stoically refused to take more than he needed, it was part of the reason he knew he was going to make an excellent king.

“I don’t.” Bard gave him a roughish grin and for a second Thranduil wondered if Bard was offering to give up his bed for him, then he realised.

He was most definitely offering to share it.

“Oh.” Thranduil practically squeaked, which was possibly the most ridiculous sound he had made yet.

“Is that okay?” Bard checked, voice suddenly gentle, which was more than enough to convince Thranduil that yes, he most certainly did want that, he managed to nod bashfully, biting his lip slightly. “Good.” Came that cheeky lilting voice again.

Thranduil had never felt so helpless against someone in his life. But at the very least he would not let himself go into this blind.

“Bard I, I don’t want to just fall into your bed and then just leave the next day.” If that was the case he wouldn’t have had trouble just saying so, it was everything else that was making him shy.

He didn’t know what he would do if that was all Bard was after, could he do it? Just one night? He wasn’t sure.

But he knew he wouldn’t be able to say no.

“Good, because I have no intention of letting you leave it the next day.”

“Oh, when then?” Thranduil asked still hesitant in a way he had never been before, worried that he was sure he wanted more than Bard did.

“Well, I guess I will only keep you confined to my bed for a week at the most.” Bard grinned and Thranduil felt his heart fall, Bard clearly thought they were on the same page. But a week could never be enough for Thranduil, he didn’t think he would be able to do it.

“Oh.” Thranduil replied, looking at the floor, dismay clear in his voice.

“Hey.” Bard said gently, suddenly close and lifting Thranduil’s chin lightly with his fingers, Thranduil was helpless against the touch. “You can leave my bed in a week, but I don’t think you will ever be leaving my heart.”

It took Thranduil a few moment to process Bard’s meaning, but when he did he felt his face break out into a smile and Bard sealed their lips together in a firm and deep kiss.

Thranduil only pulled away when he thought of something Bard had said.

“You plan to keep me in your bed for a whole week?” He challenged with a raised eyebrow.

“Don’t think you can manage it?” Bard grinned.

“On the contrary, it is your stamina I am worried for, not my own. I don’t need sleep, I could go all. Week. Long.” Thranduil punctuated each word by kissing Bard and nibbling on his lower lip.

“Not so shy now, are we.” Bard smirked playfully, giving Thranduil’s lip a little nip of his own.

“I’m never shy about what I want.” And it was true, whenever it came to his more carnal desires, Thranduil was far from shy because it was all far simpler, far more base.

“What if I called you pretty?” Bard teased him, despite his heartbreakingly earnest voice.

 

Thranduil blushed.


	80. Thranduil never leaves Middle Earth and eventually Bard is reincarnated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know, a friend of mine has a headcanon that the Gift of Men is that after they die, they're eventually reincarnated. How about a prompt based on elfandbowman's thing, where Thranduil remains in Middle Earth to stay near Bard's grave as described, but eventually Bard is reborn and somehow encounters the bitter, heartbroken elf again--who then has to come to terms with his beloved returned, and try to get him to remember the love they once had?
> 
> I have played with this prompt and altered it a little, I literally made it so Bard was specifically sent back for Thranduil by the Valar ‘cause they just couldn’t deal with watching Thranduil being so tragic anymore, but I hope you still like it!
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

Bard’s passing had not been easy, he had known it would not be easy from the very first moment he had allowed himself to love, he had convinced himself that it would be worth it.

And it was. Thranduil would not give up the love they had shared for anything, not even to rid himself of what he now felt.

He never ‘got over it’ doubted he ever would, something inside him was gone forever, Bard had taken it with him when his time on arda came to an end.

He continued to rule of course, he was a king and he was not about to abandon his people, but there was something different in him after Bard’s death, and he knew that every one of his subjects saw it. 

Still, they did not treat him with pity, and Thranduil appreciated that, he would not have reacted well to being treated as fragile all of a sudden, even if he was truly, finally, broken. They treated him with a gentle respect, respect for the fact that he had stayed for them.

But he did not behave like the fabled ice king anymore. He was sure many of his people had expected him to be worse than ever, his wife and his father’s passing first forcing him into his well-known cold persona, a temporary thawing of that while Bard was with him. He supposed it was natural to assume he would force even more ice around his heart after Bard died.

But that is not what happened. He may have forced himself not to fade, his people needed him still, he would not forsake them. But something in him broke. His wife and his father, Bard was the straw that broke the camel’s back, and Thranduil just  _broke_.

He existed, he did his job and ruled his realm, but he was not really there, he was not living anymore, he was not alive. He was blank, he did not smile, he did not scowl, he did not laugh, he did not cry and he did not shout. He looked after his people, but he was absent.

If his presence was not required, he sat with Bard, spoke to him, in the library, in their old room, in his favourite place in the woods, by his grave. He never left his kingdom, unwilling to stray far from Bard, from the little he had left of him, from the memories that haunted him and comforted him in equal parts.

He tended to the grave with more care than he did for himself, than he had for anything living. He kept it so well that it was as if the grave did not age. As if he could pretend he had not been alone for as long as he had.

Time passed, and with it so did Bain, then Sigrid, then Tilda, then the grandchildren. He had nothing left, Legolas returned home from the war of the ring, miraculously unharmed, and after spending a while longer on Middle Earth, he prepared to sail west.

He could not go with him.

Travelling to spend his eternity in Valinor would mean leaving behind Bard, and even after so many years, he just could not do it, he was not strong enough. So he stayed. He stayed even as all of his people left Middle Earth, he stayed alone, he weathered on through the ages, he stayed by Bard’s grave.

He felt sometimes like he was waiting, although he did not know what for.    

 

Occasionally he considered finally letting go. Finally letting the weight of the deaths of his wife, father and Bard crush him, shatter him to pieces. But he could not. For death would not help him, The Halls of Mandos were not where Bard now dwelt, men did not share in the same afterlife as elves.

That would always be waiting for him, the ability to go and see his wife and father again. But by leaving Middle Earth he knew that he would  _never_  see Bard again, never see the things that reminded him of him, or the things that they had shared. He would be leaving him behind, and he had made a promise once never to leave him, he decided to keep that promise even now.

He restored the greenwood, threw off the darkness and renamed it Eryn Lasgalen. Bard would have liked that, his favourite places were the little oasis’ of light left in the forest, and as Thranduil cared for the grove where his grave sat, eventually that life spread, lancing out into the rest of the forest. Bard would have liked that.

When his people left for Valinor, Thranduil left his halls, allowed nature to reclaim them, he would not stay there alone. He lived among the trees, in Bard’s grove. Some people from Dale heard and came and built him a small house nestled in the trees, one of the men looked at him sadly, he thought he might have been one of Bard’s descendants, he had no doubt stories about he and Bard were passed down the family, he did not like the pity he saw there.

The man tried to visit him. One day he asked him to come home, that he would always have one with the royal family of Dale. Thranduil made sure he did not come back after that.

His home was right here, with Bard.

And so the ages wore on, and the people of middle earth forgot his name and forgot about his people and he became a myth.

‘The ghost of the grove’ he had heard the story, whispers through the trees, someone coming to see the lonely spirit. But no one ever came into the grove anymore, he wondered if it was the old magic that lived on there with him, it unnerved people.

He wandered the forest but never strayed far from the grove, from Bard. He spoke to him, and some days he could swear he could almost hear his lilting voice speaking back to him, but it was always just out of reach.

The ages wore on, the seasons changed, kingdoms of men rose and fell but he remained frozen. A relic from a long forgotten age.

But he could never forget.

Thranduil had lost all concept of time. He knew that ages had passed, he did not know which kingdoms existed and which had fallen to time. He had not left the forest in a very long time.

And yet, on this day, something was telling him to leave. A voice, a feeling, urging him out and calling him forward. He was helpless against it, he felt like he was being called home. He had no idea where he was going, but he knew it was important he got there.

Despite the changed landscape he remembered the route. He immediately wanted to go back to their grove. He did not want to see Dale, if Dale even existed anymore. That used to be home, it was not anymore.

But something kept him moving, stumbling forward until he came upon the city. Much was different and yet it was eerily familiar. He hated it, he wanted to leave.

_No. Move forward, follow the path._

Sounded clear and loud in his head, it was no longer just a feeling, something immensely powerful was steering him, pushing him forward.

Thranduil followed the path to the town square, it wasn’t where it used to be, Thranduil would guess that the whole city had been rebuilt at least three times. The market was huge, much bigger than it had ever been before. There were too many people, he didn’t like it, he had been alone too long to feel comfortable in such a busy place.

And people were beginning to stare. Perhaps it was his strange dress, he had continued to make his clothes in the elven style, although nothing he would have worn as king. Perhaps it was the way that he was too tall and too fair to be a mortal. Perhaps the more observant among them could see his ears. Perhaps the more suspicious and myth-mongering knew what he was.

One by one the people of the market’s conversation hushed and they stared. Apprehension, curiosity, confusion, and fear were amongst the main expressions.

_Stay, listen._

The voice left no room for argument, so Thranduil stood and he listened as the noise of the market died down in favour of staring at him. The more quiet fell, the further through the market his elven ears could hear.

Until finally he heard it.

It was not possible.

_It has been made possible. Go._

Thranduil set off like a shot, he had not ran in an age, but he ran towards that voice.

“What do you mean you’ve never heard of it? It’s the kingdom that borders this one. I should I know I drew the boundaries. Are you even listening to me?”

By the Valar he had missed that voice.

Thranduil skidded to a halt when he saw him. He looked just like he had the day they first met. Right down to the shabby clothes.

He felt like someone was clawing at his chest. This couldn’t be real, it had to be some kind of sick joke.

_You know it is not._

And he did, although he was scared to believe it, he did. He could only stare, a clear path to the one he had thought he would never see again and he was rooted to the spot.

“What are you all-  _Thran_.” Bard breathed out his name when he saw him, and his face broke out into that smile that Thranduil had never even hoped to see again outside of his dreams.

He ran desperately into him, clinging to his old coat and crying into his neck, Bard didn’t miss a beat in bringing his arms up around him and holding him tight, so tight, like he had done so many times before.

Thranduil didn’t hold anything back as he sobbed into Bard, balling his fists into his clothes, terrified he was going to be taken away from him again. Bard held him fast to his strong chest and gently stoked his hair, the same way he always used to comfort him when he needed it.

“Shhh, Thran, it’s okay.” Bard cooed, dropping soft kisses against his head, gods how he had missed the feel of those lips. “It’s okay, I’m here.”

Bard continued to murmur at him, both uncaring for the hundreds of eyes that were watching them, and slowly, so slowly, but Bard had always been patient with him, Thranduil began to calm.

“Although I must admit I am not entire sure what has happened, or even where I am, I think it is Dale but I do not recognise much of it.” Bard spoke into Thranduil’s hair, the words quiet and just for him, but laced with confusion. “I thought that, that I– ”

“You did.” Gasped Thranduil, fresh tears springing into his eyes, because Bard had died, he had died in his arms millennia ago.

“Then how?” He asked, Thranduil shook his head against his shoulder, because he did not know. He could feel himself begin to shake, tremble in his love’s arms and new tears ran unbidden and silently into Bard’s tunic, already wet from tears as he tried to get his shaky, gasping breathing under control.

“Thran.” Came Bard’s gentle voice, the concern that had already been there increased tenfold. “How long?” He gulped, scared of the answer that was so clear from Thranduil’s ruined state.

“Too long.” Thranduil whispered, he did not want to tell Bard that it had been at least two ages, probably more, Bard held him tighter anyway and Thranduil felt a stray tear in his hair.

He knew.

Together they forged a new life in this new age, they never worked out how Bard had come back, it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that he had.

Thranduil tried not to think about how he was just going to have to lose Bard all over again.

 

It was almost ten years before he really noticed. Bard wasn’t aging either.

 

 

Little did the two lovers know, their fate had been decided in Valmar.

“How long are we actually expected to have to watch this? Am I the only one who is finding it physically painful?” Ulmo groaned, looking down at the last remaining elf on Middle Earth, sat unmoving by a grave, speaking as though he could hear a response.

“I am fairly certain Thranduil is also finding it physically painful.” Varda commented with a raised brow.

“I can’t be the only one who literally cannot watch anymore. It has been thousands of years.” Ulmo stated, casting a look around to the other Valar gathered there. “Nienna, aren’t you supposed to be the merciful one, can’t you at least alleviate his grief?”

“It does not work like that I am afraid, he feels what he needs to feel.” She responded sadly, shedding a soft tear for the suffering elf.

“Surely we can do something about it. Because honestly I cannot deal with this tragic spectacle every day.” Ulmo griped, though not unkindly. Thranduil and his mourning had become legendary, his refusal to sail or even fade because it would not reunite him with his love, he wasn’t sure if it was admirable, stupid or just plain tragic.

“I would help you end his suffering if I could, but I am not sure how we could help.” Estë added, and the others gathered in the room murmured their agreement.

“Well, why can’t we send his mortal back to him?” Ulmo asked.

“You are well aware that power rests only with Manwë.” Varda pointed out, and he was aware of that, he just reckoned it would be a fairly easy barrier to overcome.

“And I am sure if we  **all**  asked him really, _really_  nicely, he won’t mind.”

Ulmo grinned when the others honestly didn’t take much convincing, and within a few hours they were all headed to their king.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Manwë asked with a suspicious raised eyebrow as they all came before him.

“We are staging an intervention of sorts.” Ulmo explained, gesturing vaguely to the fact that they were all there.

“Is that so?” Manwë replied, looking almost amused,

“Yes.”

“Over what may I ask?”

“We want you to put that poor bastard out of his misery and send his mortal back to him because we really cannot watch anymore.” Ulmo stated bluntly, and the moment Manwë looked as though he was going to protest, the others all jumped in with their own arguments and pleas or varying persuasiveness.

Really it said a lot that Ulmo knew he didn’t even have to refer to Thranduil by name for him to know who he meant.

The badgering and pestering of Manwë continued for the next few hours relentlessly, no one was really letting their king get a word in edgeways, until finally,  _finally_  Manwë raised his voice above them.

“Fine! Fine. I will send him back his mortal.” The rest of the Valar let out a collective sigh of relief, knowing they would not have to watch Thranduil’s heart-breaking display every day, well, at least until next time.

Really why elves insisted on falling in love with mortals was a mystery.

They each thanked Manwë and his benevolence and when they were all gone he smirked to himself, he had already been planning to return the mortal to Thranduil (he couldn’t watch any more either).

They all watched with bated breath and a few of them shed a tear (from their own relief that it was finally over, or because of the touching reunion was up for interpretation) as Thranduil and Bard were lead back to each other, Ulmo urging Thranduil on, and Manwë pulling Bard in the right direction.

“We did not expect you to grant the mortal immortality?” Varda remarked with a knowing quirk to her lips.

“You seriously think I was sitting through that again.” Manwë deadpanned.

Maybe he just needed to rethink the separation of races in the afterlife, it clearly wasn’t working as well as he had originally thought.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have turned the valar into shipper trash, no I don’t feel bad about this, also I don’t pretend to be an expert of the valar, so basically I have no idea if manwe can do that or if the others cant, but hey this is fanfic so take it with a pinch (barrel) of salt


	81. Thranduil worries about the bardlings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> So take that meta about Ned keeping himself small n consider Thran keeping himself constantly in check when he's with the bardlings n this is why they think that Thran doesn't like them much, until a threat comes along n Thran goes FUCK NO BITCH NOT MY HUMAN BABIES n when that's over he hugs them real tight but remembers himself n quickly let go n the kids asks why n then he explains but then the kids are like Silly Ada n clings to Thran cause there's no where else safer other than Da and Ada.
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

Mortals were so fragile, Thranduil was all too aware of this. Bard might be a Dragonslayer, but he was still mortal, still breakable in a way that elves were not. He could catch diseases and a bad enough fall could leave him with broken bones, in fights he was slower, more vulnerable.

And if Bard was that fragile, he couldn’t even imagine how fragile mortal children were.  

He was so scared of hurting them, elves were stronger than men. He was worried that he would hold Tilda’s hand and squeeze too tight. That he would give Sigrid a hug and hold her too hard. That he would move around to fast and knock Bain down.

So he didn’t hold Tilda’s hand, and he didn’t give Sigrid hugs and he kept himself small and did his best not to move to fast and kept himself in check when he was around them. He would not risk hurting Bard’s children, he cared for them far too much.

The problem was, he was pretty sure that they didn’t know how much he cared because he was so careful around them. But Thranduil had never been very good at expressing himself through words, so he wasn’t sure how to change that.

He knew that Bard tried to reassure his kids that he loved them, but they had grown wary around him, Thranduil hated it. He was also fairly sure that Bard didn’t know eactly why it was he held back. He probably presumed from what he had witnessed between Thranduil and Legolas that he just wasn’t a very physically affectionate person (except with people he was, uh, getting physical with of course).

And that was partly true. Thranduil wasn’t a touchy-feely person, _except_ with those that he truly loved. And he really did love Bard’s children, as if they were his own. But Tilda was so small he could barely comprehend it, and managed to cut herself on a banister once (how fragile was their skin!?) and he had thought Bain was going to die when he caught a ‘cold’ – which he didn’t understand the naming of at all.

It was while Thranduil was walking the children through the forest, taking them out to a particularly beautiful spot for the day, that that finally changed.

Bard had forgotten the food and had gone racing back to the halls to retrieve it (with a promise to let a scout escort him back through the forest of course). Thranduil did wonder if he had forgotten in by accident or if he really just wanted him to spend some time along with the children so that they could attempt to break down some verbal for physical barriers. At least Bard knew how much Thranduil cared about them, everything would be much harder between them if he thought for moment that he didn’t.    

Tilda tripped on a branch but Thranduil had his hands under her arms steadying her in a flash, making Tilda smile up at him, but he quickly drew back and her smile turned into a little confused and scrunched up frown. Thranduil wanted to say something, this was silly, he couldn’t let them continue to think that he did not care when in reality he cared so very much.

But before he could he heard branches snapping and the tell-tale sounds of ungoliants coming towards them.

Lots of them.

Thranduil had his sword drawn and the children safely behind him in seconds, thanking the valar that they only seemed to be coming from one direction, for now.

“Only for protection, stay out of the way if you can.” Thranduil said quickly, handing Bain a dagger, Bain looked confused, that was until the first of the spiders broke through the trees and came upon them.

Thranduil fought with a skill and elegance that came only from being as old and practiced as he was, although even among the elves, he was renowned for his prowess with swords. He cut through the spiders with an anger and determination he had not felt for a very long time. There were a lot of them, he did not count, as he knew his son was fond of doing, but he knew there were a lot of them.

But not one single ungoliant got passed him, there could have been a thousand more and they still would not have gotten past. He would not let them.

He was faster, more intelligent and far more deadly than the spiders.

There were only a few more left in front of him, he believed he had already won, but there was a scream from behind him.

Thranduil spun immediately, terrified of what he would see, taking down the remained three behind him as he turned, seeing a spider bearing down on the children, having come from the other side, luckily it was the only one.

Bain thrust the dagger at the spider and caught it, but he let go of the handle and one stab was never going to be enough to stop it.

Thranduil didn’t allow himself to think because he couldn’t allow himself to panic. Bain had barely let go of the dagger when Thranduil’s sword was whistling through the air and driving through the foul creature with enough force to pin it to a tree, hanging from the blade.

Thranduil raced over to the children and gathered them into his arms without a second though, holding all three of them fast to his chets, to his heart, right where they belonged.

“Are you okay, did it hurt you.” Thranduil asked frantically, checking each of the children over quickly before pulling them into his arms again and breathing a sigh of relief.

“We’re fine.” Sigrid and Bain said together, holding on to Thranduil right back.

“You got it first Ada, don’t worry.” He heard Tilda’s happy little voice, but it was muffled by his clothes and suddenly he was worried he was holding her too tight, remembering himself and the strength that he had and how easy it would be to hurt her by accident.

So he released them quickly and took a step back, holding onto his own arms so that he couldn’t reach back out to the confused little faces.

“Ada?” Tilda asked confused, but before Thranduil could respond she screwed her little face up in determination and jumped forward, wrapping her arms as far round Thranduil as she could reach and burying her face in his stomach. “Why won’t you give me a hug? Or hold my hand? Do you not like us?” Came a heartbreakingly small voice, muffled by the way it was buried against him.

“No, pen-neth! You must never think that. Any of you. I love you all so very much.” Thranduil gasped, hurt that they really did seem to think that as Tilda asked and Bain and Sigrid both looked apprehensive.

Ever so gently Thranduil let his hand drop onto Tilda’s head and he pet her hair.

“Then why do you keep away from us?” She asked again, and Thranduil could tell by the expressions on the other two that they really wanted to know as well, he couldn’t take the way they looked as though they really thought he did not care for them, he forced himself to find the words.

“Because I am worried I might hurt you, and I would never forgive myself. Elves are much stronger than mortals and you are all still only children, I could not bear it if I hurt you because I held you too tightly.” Thranduil explained as best he could, and it was only seconds until he was knocked back by the two older children throwing their arms around him.

“We survived a dragon attack and a war, I’m pretty sure we can survive a hug.” Sigrid laughed and Thranduil couldn’t help his smile.

“We’re not as fragile as you seem to think.” Bain stated, squeezing Thranduil extra tight as if for emphasis.

“Sigrid bled when she caught her hand on the bannister. You looked like you were going to die when you caught a ‘cold’ which I was quite worryingly told was a ‘common’ cold.” Thranduil protested.

“We bleed, we get ill, it’s an unfortunate side effect of being mere mortals. But we are also very good at bouncing back.” Sigrid explained easily.

“Besides.” Tilda piped up. “There’s nowhere safer than with you and da, is there.”

“No there is not.” Thranduil agreed, and he couldn’t help but wrap his arms back around the children and hold them close.

When Bard found them, they had moved away from the remains of the spiders and into the clearing, Tilda was sitting on his shoulders while he was being taught how to have a ‘thumb war’ with Sigrid, Bain was laughing and practically vibrating waiting for his turn, apparently he was the champion at ‘thumb-wars’.

He had never seen Bard smile wider before. But he would see it again, many times in the future.      

 

He let Tauriel take a considerable force down to Dol Guldur to kill the spiders at their source. He was not letting that happen again, ever.


	82. Amnesia fic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Literally what it says on the tin: Amnesia fic 
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

 

It was only in the last few years that it had become harder between them. Really they had managed to ignore the ever encroaching sands of time for longer than they thought they would manage.

They had ignored the ever increasing number of grey hairs, and even when he had almost a full head of white hairs as he did now they could have ignored it. Just as they had ignored the wrinkles that began to crease his face, painting it with the evidence of his age.

But the things that had come in the last few years were far harder to ignore. They couldn’t ignore when last year Bard had taken a light fall and broken his hip, or the cane he now needed to walk. They couldn’t ignore the way Bard’s eyesight deteriorated, he couldn’t even shoot anymore, he was only grateful he could still see Thranduil’s face, so long as he stayed close, which these days, he always did.

They couldn’t ignore it when the best healers Middle Earth had to offer told them that likely Bard only had three or four more years.

Thranduil had been distraught, it broke Bard to watch, to be unable to help. The way he would catch him crying into his clothes sometimes, or feel wet tears when Thranduil thought he was asleep. He could not bear the way Thranduil looked stricken sometimes, that for all the wealth in his kingdom and all his power, he could not save him. 

The declarations of love that had once been so comforting began to hurt, the twisting of the knife in a wound that would not stop growing.

Yet they could not stop saying it, now that the time they had left seemed so cripplingly finite they only said it the more, no matter how it hurt.

Bard had made Thranduil promise that he would not give up, that he would carry on for Bard sake. But he worried that after his wife and his father and so very many of his people, Bard might finally break him. It kept Bard up at night. He could not bear the thought, no matter how Thranduil promised to go on for him.

So when it happened, Bard just let it.

It was a sunny day, Bard sitting on an ornate stone bench, happily soaking up the sun while Thranduil insisted on doing some odd jobs, fixing up anything that needed repairing. He liked fixing things these days.

When something happened that Bard did not expect, did not even know possible.

Thranduil lost his footing and slipped off the ledge he was leaning off.

“Thran!” Bard was up and across the space to Thranduil as quick as his years would allow him.

The fall wouldn’t have been very bad, except Thranduil had hit the back of his head as he came down. Bard rushed to his side, discarding his cane as he dropped to his now quite fragile knees carefully, cupping the back of Thranduil’s unconscious head only for his hand to be bloodied when he drew it away.

Bard shouted for help as he cradled Thranduil’s head in his lap, trying to slow the bleeding with one hand and stroking Thranduil’s hair with the other, even though he couldn’t feel it.

The healers were with them within moments, taking Thranduil out of a terrified Bard’s arms and with the efficiency of the elves had him resting up in bed with a soft looking bandage around his head.

They assured him that Thranduil should be fine, that wounds so the head normally bled a lot and he should try to keep himself calm, Thranduil should wake up in a few hours.

And he did.

“Thran?” Bard asked, standing up and hovering at his bedside when he heard a groggy groan come from the elf.

“Ugh, what happened?” He asked, looking at Bard blankly, and really, Bard had known something was wrong then.

“You hit your head, but the healers say you’re going to be fine.” Bard smiled

“Oh. Who are you exactly?” Thranduil enquired, eyes calculated and curious, trying to figure out why there was a mortal man stood at his bedside, and a concerned looking one at that.

Bard paused, it only took a second for him to make his decision.

“I’m the King of Dale, My Lord, you’re in my city, where you were when you fell.” Bard explained, and Thranduil looked convinced, probably because it was technically true. “I am assured you will be fine in time, I can only apologise. Would you like me to fetch one of your attendants?” Bard continued like his heart wasn’t breaking in his chest.

“I feel that would be best. I am a little disoriented.” Came Thranduil’s voice, and it was the voice of a king to another, not from a lover.

Bard inclined his head and left the room, not trusting his voice.  He made sure he was far enough away to avoid Thranduil’s elven ears picking it up when he finally gasped out a sob, holding himself against a wall.

“My lord Bard, are you okay?” One of Thranduil’s elves asked, accompanied by one of his own men.

“Yes, I. King Thranduil, he.” Bard tried to gather himself, to hold his heart together for a little longer.

“Is he okay?” The elf asked, concern crossing over his features.

“He appears to have lost a chunk of his memories. He does not remember me.” Brard explained, unable to stop a stray tear from streaking down his face.

“Oh, my lord our healers will do everything we can. With your help we can work on triggering his memory.” The elf attempted to comfort, steadying him by offering his arm, easier than having to support himself on the walking stick.

“You will do no such thing.” Bard told them, a firmness in his voice as he resolved himself. “You will not tell him any more about me other than what is necessary for him to know from king to king. You will not tell him what we were to each other.”

“My L– ”

“You will let him forget me.” Bard finished, looking imploringly at the elf.

He could read in his face the second he understood, the moment he was convinced it was the best course.

After all, Bard only had a few more years at most. They had still had their happiness, their love, just without Thranduil having to feel such an intense loss. It made sense to let him forget now, when all the next few years held was a long bereavement, a slow loss.

Bard had always known, had always said, he would protect Thranduil from that if he could, and now, he could.  

His heart was secondary, it could not kill him.

Not before age did anyway, and not in the same way it could an elf.

Bard acted quickly, banning the people of Dale and Mirkwood from saying anything. He did not really have the authority, but he did not need it. Everyone had seen what had started to happen these last few years, the slow fracturing of Thranduil’s heart. Everyone understood.

Legolas wanted to fight him on it, Bard could tell. But he also knew that Legolas remembered all too well what the loss of his mother had done. He did not remember her, he was too young. But he remembered the grief. He remembered his fathers devastated look. How it had stayed that way for centuries.

Tilda did fight him. She screamed and shouted and then she cried. She hadn’t got to say goodbye to her ada. He would always be sorry for that.

But she understood, she knew what Bard’s death would do to him. She didn’t want that.

In the end, it made sense, why remind him now when we only have a few years left, surely this is better.

 

Thranduil went back to Mirkwood, he had lost almost a hundred years of his memory, but really, in the case of an elf this wasn’t very much at all. Details he needed to know were explained, carefully omitting Bard as much as possible.

Bard stayed away. Thranduil did not ask after him.

He did not know who he was.

Legolas still visited him, frequently and right up to the end. He told him how Thranduil was doing, gave Bard the updates he craved, even though they probably hurt him more than helped him. At this point it hardly mattered.

And Thranduil ran Mirkwood like nothing ever happened and no one ever corrected him. It was both a source of comfort and pain for Bard.

But he was not doing it for himself.

 

 

Thranduil’s loss of memory had long since ceased to bother him, his memory had gaps but his knowledge did not. He knew about the battle outside Erebor, he knew about the re-emergence of Dale and the evolution to the policies surrounding the three cities.

He had had half his face torn away by fire, a little memory loss could hardly phase him at this point.

And yet sometimes he caught looks, almost pitying, or imploring, sometimes searching. What exactly they expected to find he did not know nor did he particularly care.

 

He was rifling through one of his towering and deep wardrobes when he came across something, something that was definitely not his.

A deep blue tunic, plain really, except from the intricate silver trim.

Thranduil remembered sewing it himself.

Thranduil suddenly, like it had never been gone, he remembered everything crystal clearly.

Just as clearly as he remembered being told a few days before that the king of dale had died.

 

And he had not cared.

 

Thranduil collapsed and he cried into the tunic, into Bard’s tunic, until he had no more tears. He locked the entrance to his rooms and refused everyone entry.

He felt broken.

So suddenly shattered that he did not know how to cope.

And he was  _furious_. He was furious with  _everyone_ , because  _everyone_ , from the lowliest elf right up to his own son had kept this from him.

They had kept him from Bard when they could've had almost three whole more years.

Those three years had been stolen from him. He wanted them back, but he knew he would never have them.

He left his rooms after two days, leaving them wrecked from his rage, the walls almost still echoing with his cries, his despair.

His loss.

He went to the funeral, he went alone, and he went in elven mourning veils. They did nothing to hide his stricken face, stricken from the death of his love and the betrayal he felt from the people he held closest in this world.

He knew, the moment he entered, they could all tell. They realised he had remembered.

 

Not a single soul could meet his eye. Not even his children,  _their_  children. Not Legolas, nor Bain, nor Sigrid. Not even Tilda.

 

Not a single one.


	83. Bard and Thranduil become a 'something'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you write a fic where Thranduil is looking for Bard after the battle and he becomes increasingly worried because nobody has seen him, then he discovers him wounded, and with comforting words carries him to his own elvish healers? And maybe after he visits when Bard is (or isn't actually) asleep? Idk I've never suggested prompts and this might be too vague or bad or whatever. I lack the skill and you're great.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Thranduil had been searching the battlefield all too long, and he was still yet to find who he was looking for, he was beginning to worry. Surely it shouldn’t be this hard to locate him, he’d never failed to catch Thranduil’s attention before now.

He wasn’t sure why he felt so very concerned about where the bargeman turned dragonslayer was.

(That was a lie he knew exactly why).

But really when it came to matters of his heart, Bard was an anomaly, a first in a _very_ long time, and that made him a little intimidating. Especially given the short amount of time they had known each other. But Thranduil had _known_ almost straight away. Which only made it more intimidating, not less.

Right now he was searching for him and he wasn’t finding him. None of his men had seen him, he had already combed over most of the battlefield. He was starting to worry, it had only started as looking for him somewhat casually, it hadn’t occurred to him that he might have- that he may be-

No.

He was refusing to look amongst the bodies.

He had already lost too many of his people, and his son was not coming home. He would not lose Bard as well, it was not an option.

Even though he realised that there may be very little he could do about it.

He continued to search and he tried not to panic. Even if he really didn’t feel like he had earned the right to panic yet. All they had was a budding… _something_. And for all he knew Bard didn’t think they had a budding anything. But if the looks were anything to go by, he felt it too.

Thranduil wasn’t prepared to lose that, it had been so long since he had had a something, he didn’t want to lose it before it became anything.

The only outward sign that he was worried was the slightly faster, hurried almost, speed that he walked through the battlefield with. The only one who would have know it for the worry it was would have been Legolas, and for now though Thranduil knew in his heart not forever, was gone.

He rounded a corner and saw him, saw Bard, sitting, slumped against the wall behind him, one hand clasping over his right side.

“Bard!” Thranduil shouted, rushing to his side and dropping to his knees, immediately assessing the damage, trying to keep it together despite Bard’s pale face.

He did not know if he was relieved to find him still alive, or terrified by the fact he may not stay that way.

“Thranduil.” Bard smiled, voice thin but almost deliriously happy, or perhaps just delirious, Thranduil had no idea how much blood he had lost.

Bard brought a hand, his cleaner hand, although at this point Thranduil would have hardly cared, up to Thranduil’s hair and started running his fingers through it with a stupid smile on his face.

“I’m glad I got to see you again. Can you tell my kids– ”

“Don’t you dare.” Thranduil hissed, effectively shutting Bard up. “And don’t be so dramatic, it’s not even deep.” He lied.

“Hmmmm. Okay then.” Bard replied in a sort of daze yet almost beaming dopily at Thranduil, refusing to look away.

“It won’t take elvish medicine two seconds to set you right.” He had no idea if that was true, he didn’t know enough about mortals.

“That’s good. I would like to see you again after this. And then again after that.” Bard’s voice was strange, almost like he was dreaming, but his words were making Thranduil’s heart swell regardless.

“I will hold you to that.” Thranduil promised, much to Bard’s semi-delirious joy. He was very worried about how much blood bard had lost. It was everywhere.

He slipped his arms gently under Bard, one under his knees, and one carefully around his strong back and as carefully as he could he lifted him off the ground, doing his best not to jostle his injury, one that was still bleeding at a rate that he was finding alarming. Maybe mortals just bled a lot, he didn’t know, he’d never cared to know before now.

He thanked the Valar for the elves superior strength, enabling him to carry Bard without struggling, without awkwardly trying to support him or with any risk of faltering.

He knew there would be blood staining his hands and clothes, more than he had acquired throughout the whole battle. Bard was the only one who had gotten close enough.

As he had both predicted and hoped, almost as soon as there was a clear line of sight between himself and where the elves had made camp in Dale, there were a troop of elves running swiftly towards them. He tried not to think about the fact that Bard had lost consciousness almost the moment he had lifted him.

He didn’t even have to speak for his people to know what to do. They moved with utter efficiency, starting to carefully look Bard over even as they walked, checking immediately for anything they could fix straight away. It didn’t take them long to reach Thranduil’s tent, and not a soul questioned or even looked  confused when Thranduil brought Bard in there instead of the makeshift hospital area that had been erected.

His people didn’t miss a beat, they had already gone ahead and laid down sheets atop Thranduil’s opulent bed, probably in an attempt for the expensive covers not to be stained with blood. At this point Thranduil hardly cared.

As carefully as he was able, he laid Bard down on the bed, so scared of knocking him and making anything worse. And then, no matter how much he did not want to, how much he wanted to hover, Thranduil took a step back and gave his healers room to descend on Bard and set to work, which of course they did.

Thranduil wanted to stay, he wanted to not leave Bard’s side for a second, just in case, just in case. But he knew there were people more important than him, who were probably losing their minds in worry over where he was.

So instead he left his tent and went to find Bard’s children.

They were far easier to find, despite the loud atmosphere that still hadn’t dissipated in the aftermath of the battle, he could pick out three separate cries of ‘da!’ easily. 

He brought them to his tent and they all waited outside the separator to his sleeping area for the healers to emerge to give them news. He did not know what to say to them, they looked so scared, he probably did as well, he was hardly worrying about keeping up appearances in this moment.

Bain was pacing around the space restlessly, anxiously, Thranduil could tell he was only just keeping from tearing his hair out. Sigrid was sat very still and very quietly with her sister. Thranduil knew their mother had died, he had no doubt Sigrid had been through this before, he face didn’t look scared, it looked haunted. 

He wished he could comfort them, but he would not tell them things he did not know were true. He remembered how angry Legolas had been when he had told him that his mother would be okay, only for her not to be. He remembered the feeling of his tiny fists striking his chest in fury until he finally cried himself to sleep in Thranduil’s arms.

Since then he had been convinced it was better not to offer false hope. But still, he wished there was something he could say.

But he didn’t need to. Children are more perceptive than anyone gives them credit for and he saw the understanding in Bain and Sigrid’s eyes when they would occasionally catch each other.

And Tilda didn’t need words either it would seem. She just walked over to Thranduil and sat next to him, tucking herself under his arm and holding onto him. it wasn’t long before he had her in his arms, rocking her to sleep gently.

He still wasn’t sure if she had come over for her own comfort, or in an attempt to comfort Thranduil. Either way it had worked.

Eventually the healers came out of the room, and when they said that Bard was going to be okay, Thranduil didn’t bother to hold back his sheer relief.

He had cots set up in his sleeping area for the children, and he tucked Tilda in and managed to convince the older pair to get some rest as well, that they were right here and their da was only five meters away and he was going to be okay.

It didn’t take the children long to fall asleep, then had been through far too much and in just a few days, children shouldn’t have to deal with that, not ever.

Thranduil sat himself in a chair that had been placed next to Bard’s bedside and just resisted the urge to run a hand over his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, a felt a need to be tactile that he hadn’t in a long time.   

He couldn’t stay seated for long, he was too anxious even now, too restless.

He thought about the things that Bard had said when he found him. He didn’t want to overanalyse them, but he couldn’t stop thinking about them. Something slightly less serious to worry about, his feeling mattered far less than Bard did. But still, the words and their possible meaning ran through his mind.

Maybe Bard didn’t mean it. He had clearly not been in his right mind. Thranduil felt helpless, and like a complete loose end. The children were asleep on beds he had ordered brought into his tent, Bard was sleeping, and apparently on the mend (although it would be some time before Thranduil was able to relax himself fully).

And he didn’t know if he was allowed to hold his hand.

He wanted to desperately, to seek the relief that touch brought.

But he didn’t know if he was allowed.

So instead he paced, and he hovered by his bedside, and he sat for as long as he could just watching him before he gave in to the urge to move restlessly again to stop himself from reaching out.

He trailed his hand along the bedding, never quite touching Bard’s hand, never quite taking that final step. He was scared, and not only of Bard dying, but also that he would get better and not in any way feel the same. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

But the fourth time Thranduil’s hand teased along the covers just next to Bard’s, Bard’s hand reached out and gently linked their fingers together, taking Thranduil’s smooth pale hand in his large calloused one.

Thranduil stilled and looked in shock, he wasn’t sure if Bard was still asleep, but he couldn’t and had no desire to pull his hand away.

Then Bard’s hand squeezed his slightly and Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief, settling down in the chair next to the bed, burying his face in the covers next to Bard’s waist and slinging his free arm across his waist, carefully avoiding where he knew his injuries to be.

Bard smiled.  

 


	84. Coffee Shop Au!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Coffee shop AUs give me life. Coffee shop manager Thranduil with new barista Bard. SOMETHING CUTE.
> 
> Rated: G/T

Previously, Thranduilhad taken very little interest in the day to day running of his coffee shop, happy to leave that to his son and far more interested himself in running the bookshop instead.

His little bookshop café, ‘Greenwood café and books’, was tucked away in the far less visited side of town, niche and full of places that, in Thranduil’s opinion, were complete gems (his own shop being the crowning glory of course) and it was something that was reflected in the way the vast majority of their customers were loyal regulars.

For some reason people just liked getting their coffee amongst books, who knew why, and who cared frankly. He was happy collecting, stocking and running the book section of the business, and Legolas enjoyed the café, chatting to the customers and just generally being more sociable and approachable than Thranduil was or indeed was interested in being.

Until now.

Until Legolas, perfect-beautiful-best-son-in-the-world-yes-I-did-just-buy-you-a-new-car-because-of-this Legolas, hired Bard.

Legolas made the flawless decision of hiring Bard (Legolas had obviously been raised well because this was a wonderful decision). He hired the moderately haggard, handsomely scruffy (utterly delicious), hard-working Bard. 

Legolas had told him about the interview, he did at least have to run these things past him. He had told Thranduil about the man he had hired for their new barista, who had admitted to knowing absolutely nothing about making coffee, that yes he had been fired from his last job because he couldn’t hold his tongue when his old boss was being a bastard to some of the younger workers, that he had three kids and needed to support them alone, so he would work his ass off, work his fingers to the bone to see dinner go on the table and if eh got the job he would be able to do that.

Thranduil had immediately given the barista’s a pay rise. He already paid them well, but he didn’t know if that was well enough to feed three children and it clearly needed to be.

Greenwood wasn’t how he made his money, that was a combination of inheritance and being a savvy investor of his money. He had Greenwood and loved it because it was something to do every day, something to occupy himself where he could spend his days and feel a part of something rather than the detached word of investing.

He was rich, and he was happy to pour a lot of that into his work force at Greenwood. They were dedicated and loyal, and even if they thought he was a grump and antisocial and a little mean, that really wasn’t their fault, it was just the way he came across most of the time.

So Legolas told him about this new employee, and he was immediately intrigued.

Then Thranduil had  _seen_  him.

He had seen him, probably drooled a little, then looked over to his son who looked smug. Little shit.

Luckily, it was Bard’s first day, so he was still very much learning how to use all of the machines and make all of the various drinks, nor had he met any fellow employees who could sully Thranduil’s good name as a grump before he even got a look in.

They always trained up their new baristas in their least busy times, giving them their first shifts when it was seriously unlikely to become stressful, so it would be just Bard and Legolas, well technically, it could be either one of them, but Legolas had always done it before.

Thranduil made a beeline for his son, aiming to intercept him and suggest – completely innocently of course – that maybe they make a change today and Legolas could man the books and he could take a stint behind the coffee counter.

By the time he reached him, Legolas was already looking at him with a faux-innocent smile.

“Something I can help you with ada?” He asked, managing to supress his grin in favour of looking clueless.

Thranduil was torn between thinking he was wonderful for hiring Bard and a little shit for the look sparking around in his eyes.

He glared, but there was no real heat in his eyes, and Legolas laughed, handing over the apron that Thranduil had zero intention of wearing, he chucked the keys to the book storage cupboard at Legolas who caught them easily, still smirking.  

Thranduil definitely did not check his hair (which was always flawless anyway) before heading over to where Bard was stood waiting behind the counter. He was so glad he always made a point of looking good, that there were no days he could be caught looking like shit – if he wanted to veg around and be scruffy he just didn’t leave home.

He tossed the apron out of the way as he rounded the counter.

“Aren’t we supposed to wear those?” Bard asked with a cheeky raised eyebrow.

Oh Thranduil was going to enjoy this. Or it was going to be complete torture. He hadn’t decided yet.

“Maybe, but as I own the place I think I can get away with it.”

“Leading by example, I like it.” Bard teased, and Thranduil was highly tempted to discard his apron as well as certain other articles of clothing (all of it. He wanted rid of all of it).

He also wanted to get beard burn on his ass from that devastating facial hair Bard was sporting. But unfortunately now was not the time (yet, he fully intended it to be later. Many times.)

“Sassing the boss on the first day of work. Didn’t you get fired for something similar at your last job?” Thranduil tutted, his tone not even a little serious.  

“I think my motives are quite different this time.” Bard smirked back, and well, if Thranduil bit his lip in a slightly calculated way then he didn’t care because he still got to enjoy the slight darkening of Bard’s eyes.

“So, anyway.” Bard asked after a pretty charged pause, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away as he did so. “How do these machines work?”

Thranduil managed to snap himself out of eyeing up his new employee just in time to realise a pretty inconvenient truth.

He had absolutely no idea how the coffee machines worked.

Which Legolas knew.

Little shit was probably laughing in a corner somewhere.

“How about we start with the cash register?” Thranduil evaded, which was pointless really because it was only going to give him a few minutes to magically learn how to use his own machines.

He may have known how to use the old ones, but they had long since been upgraded by Legolas to complex looking contraptions that Thranduil couldn’t even work out where the mug was supposed to go.

Crap.

Unfortunately he was enjoying their snarky banter too much to claim he had paper work and send Legolas out – also Legolas would probably just tell Bard, would probably take great joy in doing so in fact. Bard was just so bold, giving as good as he got as they teased and flirted and quipped at each other. Thranduil couldn’t get enough of it, it had been a long time since he was interested in anyone like this.

So Thranduil stalled, with the cash register and the various door-codes and information about when they were busy and the bookshop café in general. But he rather quickly ran out of things to say in order to dodge a barista’s main job.

“Okay, got it.” Bard confirmed with a smile after learning the book/coffee etiquette (no unpaid for books near the food and drink). “And what about these complicated looking coffee machines? I need to learn so I can impress my boss.” Bard added cheekily with a wink, wandering back over to stare bemusedly at the silver contraptions.

“Well, uh, this one I think, uh, does…Latte’s?” Thranduil said hesitantly, eyeing one of the machines, he had no idea if it was true, it could be the toastie iron for all he knew.

“Oh my god you don’t know do you?” Bard exclaimed, snickering at Thranduil and unable to cover his grin.

“Well, in my defence Legolas is the one who does it, I do the books.” Thranduil huffed, also failing at pretending not to find it funny. Because it was, it was completely ridiculous that he was trying to teach him and that he owned the place and worked there every day and genuinely had no idea.

“Then why decide to teach me how to use it if you don’t know yourself?” Bard asked, not bothering to hide his laughter or amused smile at Thranduil, he was glad, Bard had a beautiful smile.

“I may have forgotten my shortcomings in this area for a moment. I was a little distracted.” Thranduil mumbled, still pretending he knew what the weird shaped thing in his hand did.

“Oh really, anything in particular that you were preoccupied with?” Bard smirked, trying and failing to look innocent, his boldness spurred Thranduil on, tossing the thing aside and turning to face Bard instead, knowing he had a downright predatory look in his eyes.

“Yes.” Thranduil leered, throwing off Bard a little at his refusal to be teased (well in this context anyway), dragging his eyes up Bard instead. “Now come on I’m sure we can figure these ridiculous things out.”

“Or, before we probably break them you could go get Legolas and just let me take you out on a date later.” Bard suggested with an eyebrow raised in challenge.

“Asking your boss out on the first day, bold.” Thranduil responded with a matching smirk and raised brow.

“As bold as pretending to know how the coffee machines worked to your new barista? And for totally unprofessional reasons as well.” Bard continued, pretending to be scandalised even though he was very clearly delighted by the fact.

“…Touché.” Thranduil conceded with a wink before fetching Legolas and proceeding to hang around the counter all day anyway, watching as Legolas got more and more confused at Bard’s complete inability to make even the simplest coffee, even though he was clearly trying.

 

Four days later Bard made good on his promise to take Thranduil out. He grinned and took Thranduil on a workshop about all things coffee, including making it, a literal coffee workshop. Thranduil hadn’t even known such a thing existed. But he was glad it did, because he found out just how crap Bard was at making coffee, no matter who was trying to teach him, Legolas or a professional coffee expert.

 

Bard worked in the book section now instead.  

 


	85. have some wild sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Imagine your OTP lying next to each other in bed, staring at the ceiling, embarrassed and slightly alarmed by the wild, intense, filthy sex they just had.
> 
> Rated: E 
> 
> Kinks include: spanking, biting, dirty talk, orgasm delay, moderate dom/sub, face/throat fucking, naked/clothed, wrist restraints, blindfold, marking, rimming, and some come play
> 
> Enjoy the filth!

 

“Thran.” Bard growled as Thranduil wrapped his arms around him from behind – while they were trying to walk – and started sucking on his neck.

Bard’s patience was seriously wearing thin. He had been turned on for hours. All through the fairly long meeting they had only just left Thranduil had been teasing Bard. Resting his hand a little too high on his thigh, trailing his fingers places that weren’t entirely innocent, biting on his lip completely deliberately, whispering things Bard could hardly respond to while they had company.

And now he was sliding his smooth, elegant hands under his tunic and dragging them across his stomach, dangerously close to the hem of his trousers which unsurprisingly were getting a bit tight.

Seriously. He couldn’t wait five minutes for them to reach their chambers. Did he want to do it here in the middle of the hallway!?

Now there was an idea.

Thranduil was a complete teasing bastard, but he was no so brazen as to want Bard to actually react until they were in private. Nor would he expect Bard to do anything until then.

Well, it was good for the Elvenking to be wrong occasionally.

So the next time he teased at Bard’s waistband and kissing his neck – which was only second later – Bard spun round and slammed him up against the wall. He smirked as Thranduil gasped before claiming his mouth in a brutal kiss.

He grabbed Thranduil’s strong forearms and pinned them hard against the wall (although he was under no delusion Thranduil could throw him off his wanted to) and practically fucked his tongue into that pouty mouth, making Thranduil moan as he stroked against his tongue. He pushed a thigh between Thranduil’s and rubbed the elf’s rapidly growing hardness and getting a delicious little whimper in return.

He bit down on Thranduil’s lip until he could taste the coppery tang on blood on his tongue, for a second he faltered, worried he had gone too far, but Thranduil just whimpered and lunged forward to get Bard’s lips back, only to whine desperately when Bard slammed him back and smirked, darkening Thranduil’s eyes even further.

He took Thranduil’s lips back in a kiss that frankly involved more biting than kissing, before moving his lips to that beautiful pale throat that he enjoyed marking so much, quickly bringing up what would soon be a dark bruise contrasting that white smooth skin perfectly.

Bard started rutting against Thranduil’s hip with more purpose, changing his stance slightly until they were rubbing together through their clothes perfectly, moving his hips to push against Thranduil with purpose, squeezing his biceps rhythmically along with his hips.

“B-bard, you can’t be serious. Anyone could walk by.” Thranduil panted out between moans and gasps, he always had been noisy, Bard loved it.

“Think it’s fun teasing me all day do you? You’d deserve it you know, getting fucked in the middle of the corridor where anyone could see, see what a little slut you really are.” Bard didn’t get a verbal response, but he did have Thranduil rutting against him considerably harder than before.

“Luckily.” Bard continued, biting hard on his earlobe. “I don’t want anyone else to see you like that, naked and desperate for me. You. Are. Mine. Understand?” He demanded, stepping back, Thranduil whimpering as every point of contact except the firm grip on his arms disappeared.

“Yes, yours, only yours.” Thranduil panted, blue eyes turned dark, pretty little mouth all red and swollen already.

“Good.” Bard growled, fastening a hand tightly around Thranduil’s wrist and dragging the dazed elf in the direction of their chambers without a care for whoever saw them, tonight he wanted them to know he was ruining their great king.

The way Thranduil had not fought him off, had enjoyed it when he got rough, had liked being pinned back against the wall, whimpered desperately at Bard’s dirty words and possessive language had woken something in Bard, something _feral_ that just wanted to absolutely dominate him.

And if the way Thranduil was hungrily watching him as he manhandled him into the rooms and growled instructions at him that were immediately followed, he had an inkling Thranduil was going to like it too.

“If I do anything you don’t like you have to tell me and I will stop straight away, promise?” Bard asked gently as he kissed Thranduil against the door, Thranduil nodded but Bard pressed him for a verbal answer.

“Yes, yes I promise.” Thranduil assured, returning the kiss eagerly and turning it into more again.

“Good.” Bard hummed into his mouth, sending shivers through Thranduil.

He pushed Thranduil back onto the bed forcefully, loving the little bounce as he hit the soft mattress and looked up at him sinfully through dark lashed, biting his lip in that way that just wasn’t fair.

“Strip.” Bard ordered, refusing to be enticed down onto the bed before he planned.

Thranduil did not disappoint. He slowly and sensually pulled off his clothes, making a show of it for Bard, dragging his long fingers all over his newly bared skin and dropping the garments to pool on the floor until he was only left in his underclothes.

“All of it.” Bard clarified firmly and Thranduil obeyed easily, baring all that flawless porcelain skin to him, Bard really would never get over how beautiful Thranduil was, enjoying dragging his eyes up the long lines of his body.

Thranduil continued running his hands over his body teasingly, but as they reached for his cock (a pretty cock really if such a thing was possible), Bard grabbed his hand.

“You are not allowed to touch yourself. Not tonight.” Bard told him, voice set low and rough, revelling in the way Thranduil nodded in understanding, entire face filled with unbridled lust. “Get on your hands and knees.” Bard instructed, releasing his hand and stepping back to watch.

Bard delighted in the unexpected blush that run up Thranduil’s cheeks, he had never been one to blush, Bard wondered if it was because he was so exposed while Bard remained clothed, maybe it was the way he was being ordered around. Whatever it was, he was clearly enjoying it as he did as he was told, facing the headboard and presenting himself to Bard.

Bard walked around the bed, unashamedly drinking in his lover from every angle – each more arousing than the one before – until he came to the foot of the bed once again. He trailed his hands teasingly lightly over Thranduil’s lower back and the backs of his thighs before taking that lush ass in his hands, kneading at the flesh and parting them to trail a finger lightly over Thranduil’s puckered entrance, making Thranduil push back against him desperately, but Bard just removed his finger, making Thranduil moan in frustration.

“You were very bad today, teasing me like that when I couldn’t do anything about it. I think fifteen spanks should cover it.” Bard stated, squeezing Thranduil’s ass for emphasis.

“Okay?” Bard asked gently, needing to know Thranduil was okay with this before continuing, he knew Thranduil liked to be spanked, they had done it a few times before, but never like this. Bard smirked as Thranduil whined and nodded frantically, pushing his ass back into his hand.

“Good. You will count as we go. If you fail to count each one aloud then another slap will be added. Understood?”

“Yes, yes _sir_.” Thranduil responded automatically, making Bard’s uncomfortably trapped cock jump.

“Good.” Bard praised, and he gave one last squeeze before he landed a slap against Thranduil’s ass, he jerked and moaned but stayed on all fours.

“One.” Thranduil panted, pushing his ass back for more.

Bard spanked him again, harder this time and in the exact same spot, Thranduil counting through his pleasured whimpers as Bard continued to spank that perfect bottom, feeling his cock throb as he watched that alabaster skin go red under his hand.

After seven he switched to the other cheek, mudding it with red the same as he did the other one. Thranduil was still managing to choke out numbers despite the way he was crying out practically thrusting against thin air.

“Fourteen. _Oh_ Bard I’m so close.” Thranduil mewled, and Bard ignored how turned on he was by the fact that Thranduil could apparently come just from being spanked in favour of landing the final slap and wrapping his other hand tightly around the base of Thranduil’s leaking cock to stop him from coming. Bard was a long way from being done with him yet.

Thranduil shout of pleasure as the last slap fell was loud and beautiful as it fell into a sob of frustration at being denied.

“Good.” Bard soothed, caressing the abused skin, he could feel Thranduil practically purr beneath him at the praise.

He kissed Thranduil’s reddened cheeks languidly, laving his tongue over the hot skin and giving one long slow drag over his hole before withdrawing (frustrating Thranduil further) and gently turning Thranduil onto his back.

Thranduil sat on the edge of the large bed and Bard swooped to kiss him, Thranduil’s face was dazed with lust and want and he sighed as Bard’s tongue licked into his mouth. It wasn’t long before Bard felt insistent and clever hands unlacing the fastenings on his trousers, he caught Thranduil’s wrists easily and pulled back, that wasn’t what he had planned next.

“Please.” Thranduil implored completely genuinely, looking up at Bard through his lashes, and Bard had always been bad at saying no to him. And Gods, Thranduil really did love doing it, almost as much as Bard loved receiving it, which was seriously saying something.

Bard released Thranduil’s hands and the elf made a delighted little noise as Bard continued to unlace his own trousers and freed his cock. Thranduil fucking _licked his lips_ before looking up at Bard as if for permission, so he run the head against those slightly parted lips, smearing precome across them before nudging slightly at them.

Thranduil’s wicked tongue flicked out of his mouth and over the tip of Bard’s cock before he opened for it fully and sunk his mouth down on Bard’s large cock. Bard moaned and buried a hand in Thranduil’s silk-spun hair, pulling it deliberately and getting a pleased hum from Thranduil, sending shocks of pleasure through him.

Thranduil kept going, sucking and licking at Bard, who was desperately trying not to thrust too deep into that talented mouth, until Thranduil pulled back, leaving just the very tip in his wet mouth were he laid open mouth kisses against it was he looked up at Bard with a wanting expression.

“What do you want?” Bard asked, almost dissolving into a groan as Thranduil suckled on the head of his cock like it was the best thing he had ever tasted. When Thranduil blushed again and looked away a little Bard pulled back, running a finger over sticky lips before bending and kissing them. “Tell me.” He encouraged gently.

“I want you to fuck my mouth.” Thranduil admitted, but Bard knew that wasn’t the whole story because they had done that before, had been doing it just then to a certain extent, and it wouldn’t cause such a pretty blush anymore.

“What is it that you want darlin’?” Bard asked him again, pressing sweet kisses against his sensitive ear, making him gasp a little and Bard’s teasing ministrations.

“I want you to choke me on it. I want you to use me and fuck my throat until I can’t breathe.” Thranduil confessed, bearing his neck to Bard’s wandering mouth, and Bard stilled, having to stop himself from coming just at the words, he was going to check he was sure, but then Thranduil added “Please.” In an almost begging voice and Bard couldn’t help himself.

He pushed himself back into Thranduil’s mouth without preamble and started fucking his mouth in earnest, somehow managing not to come as he felt Thranduil’s throat around him. Thranduil’s eyes were watering and Bard could see him fighting not to gag and choke, but he was also moaning wantonly like this was all he had ever wanted.

Bard buried his hand back into that silvery hair and pulled on it, dragging Thranduil off his cock long enough to take a few gulps of air before thrusting back in, pushing Thranduil against the wiry hair at his base, both of them moaning at the sensations, Thranduil’s nails scratching down Bard’s lower back, probably to stop him touching himself when Bard had forbidden him.

As Bard fucked into that hot wet mouth, choking Thranduil just the way he wanted, he knew he needed to stop unless he wanted to spill down his throat (and preferably over his face as well). And while he most definitely did want that, he had plans to fuck Thranduil before this night was out.

He pushed his cock down that throat once more before pulling back, to a disappointed and raspy sound from Thranduil who immediately tried to pull him back.

“Much as I love coming in your lovely mouth and all over your pretty face, I have other plans tonight.” Bard murmured into his ear before going over to the dresser.

“On your back, up against the headboard.” Bard instructed, loving the way he could hear Thranduil scrambling to obey – he could make the Elvenking _scramble_.

Bard grabbed one of their many vials of oil and one of his old, worn out shirts, which Thranduil looked at quizzically as Bard walked back to the bed. His expression morphed into one of excited understanding and Bard tore the shirt into strips.

“Okay?” Bard checked as he fastened Thranduil’s wrist to the headboard, tight enough to restrict, not tight enough to hurt.

“Yes _sir_.” Thranduil purred cheekily apparently having cottoned on to what that did to Bard despite only having used it once before.

Bard smirked and finished restraining both his wrists before using another one to function as a blindfold. He check with Thranduil again and got the same sure response.

Bard positioned himself over Thranduil, letting his clothes brush against Thranduil, the sensations heightened by his lack of sight. He licked a strip up Thranduil’s muscled chest and then blew over it, making Thranduil shiver and whimper very slightly.

He licked over his nipples and blew cold air, making them even harder than before. He bit down hard on Thranduil’s bared neck, bringing up another deep purple mark, as he rolled the hardened bud between his fingers.

Thranduil whined wantonly the whole time Bard bit a trail down his throat, over his collarbone, and down to his chest – he was going to be absolutely littered with marks, exactly as Bard wanted. Bard latched onto one of his pert nipples, nibbling at it and blowing on it and sucking and licking until it was red and puffy like Thranduil’s well-fucked mouth before moving to the other one until it was in the same state.

Bard continued his exploration of Thranduil’s body, biting and licking and marking it as he moved towards his long cock. It was hairless, long, and slender, just like the rest of Thranduil’s elven body, and a very inviting shade of red. Bard really did think it was a very pretty cock.

Bard gave Thranduil’s weeping cock a few teasing kitten licks before hooking Thranduil’s legs over his shoulders and lifting his hips. Thranduil gasped loudly as Bard licked over his balls, past the sensitive patch behind them and flattened his tongue against his hole.

He didn’t hesitate as he lapped over the pink pucker and teased the tip of his tongue around the rim before pushing his tongue in past the tight ring of muscle without warning. Thranduil jerked and his legs squeezed against Bard’s back making him smirk against Thranduil, spread his cheeks more and bury his face in Thranduil’s ass, fucking his tongue into his hole, getting the muscle wet and relaxed. He alternated between tugging at the rim, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses against his entrance and fucking his tongue as deep at it could go.

And only when he felt Thranduil tensing and pulling against the restraints, signalling his peak did Bard pull back, wrapping a hand around Thranduil’s base and holding tight to stave off his orgasm once again, making Thranduil cry out is frustration once again.

Bard waited, pressing kisses and nips against his thighs until Thranduil was coming down again, moving away from the edge. And when Bard judged that he was not going to come immediately, he coated his fingers in the oil and pressed two in to Thranduil’s already loosened hole.

Thranduil cried out, body clamping down at the intrusion before relaxing even further than before, and Bard could not imagine how good that wold feel around his cock. He didn’t wait long before pushing in a third finger, Thranduil thrusting his hips down to try and take Bard in further.

“Please, now Bard, _please._ ” Thranduil begged between pants and whines, he would usually stretch Thranduil with a fourth finger to be sure not to hurt him – Bard wasn’t exactly small – but Thranduil was literally _begging_ Bard to fuck him.

Bard pulled his fingers out and slicked up his cock, he lined up with Thranduil’s loose hole and leaned down to kiss Thranduil’s open lips and pressed inside in one smooth movement.

Thranduil cried out at the burn, but Bard knew by the way he was panting that he loved it, so he wasted no time in setting up a brutal pace, fucking into the impossibly tight heat of Thranduil and biting at his neck once again.

“Feel so good. Being so good for me aren’t you?” Bard praised, voice low and rough, nosing at his neck.

“Mmm, y-yes.” Thranduil managed to get out between pants and shouts. Bard loved how loud he was, so responsive.

“Such a good boy.” Bard purred into Thranduil’s ear, making Thranduil struggle against the restraints again and move his blindfolded face to where he knew Bard’s voice was coming from.

“You love it don’t you. Being filled up with my cock.” Bard continued, sensing how much Thranduil was getting off on Bard talking like this, not to mention how much he found he liked it himself.

Thranduil whimpered and nodded frantically making Bard chuckle, taking Thranduil’s legs by the back of his thigh in either hand and pressing them down, practically bending Thranduil in half and changing the angle just enough to start nailing his prostate, getting Thranduil shouting even louder than before.

“You love getting fucked, such a needy little slut.” Bard continued, Thranduil cried out. “But just for me.” Thranduil whined out but Bard wanted more than that. “Say it.” He growled, placing a smack to his still sore ass and then nailing his prostate with a particularly hard thrust.

“Yes! Y-yes, u-uh just yours.” Thranduil moaned out, and really Bard was just impressed he could string so many words together, clearly Bard needed to work harder.

“Good.” Bard growled into Thranduil’s ear, before biting it and starting to ram onto Thranduil’s even harder, pounding into him in a way that was going to make it hard for him to sit for the next few days at least, the thought only made him go faster.

Thranduil was letting a stream of moans and whimpers fall from those open red lips, wrists pulling against the restraints, hands fisted and nails digging into his palms. Bard tightened his grip on Thranduil’s creamy thighs and pressed them back until they were practically either side of his head, he loved how flexible his lover was, and by the increasingly loud shouts, so was he.

He could feel Thranduil contracting around him slightly, and he could tell by his breathing that he was getting close, which was good because Bard knew he wasn’t going to be lasting much longer either.

“You going to come? Just on my cock? Come on, show me how much you love it, come for me.” Bard growled, breath hot on his ear and as his bit down hard on his collarbone, Thranduil shouted out his name and shot between them, painting his chest with his come.

Bard fucked him through it, gasping at the feeling of Thranduil squeezing around him. He pulled out before Thranduil became too oversensitive (and because he fully intended to come _on_ Thranduil tonight). On the edge already, it didn’t take long for Bard to roughly stroke himself to him own climax, spilling over Thranduil’s panting chest in thick ropes before collapsing next to him, finally letting Thranduil’s legs down from his shoulders.

He ran his fingers through their mingled come on Thranduil’s stomach, and he could hear a tiny whimper from Thranduil and smirked to himself, bringing his come cover fingers up to that pouty mouth where they were greedily sucked in and cleaned off by a clever tongue. Bard left Thranduil sucking on his fingers and moved himself half over Thranduil to start licking the rest of it off his stomach and chest.

With one final whimper from Thranduil, Bard licked over his neck and drew his fingers out of Thranduil’s mouth – who gave them a little nip and an attempt to keep them. Bard kissed his exhausted lover, gently untying his wrists and kissing them before slipping off the blindfold and kissing his lips softly.

Bard finally stripped off his sweaty clothes and collapsed back. They lay there next to each other, panting heavily as they came down, staring at the celling. Bard could feel himself start to blush. That had been pretty intense and a tad more, well, just more than they had done before. But _dear god_ had he enjoyed it.

“So, that was new.” Bard said somewhat tentatively when he felt he could speak again.

“Yeah.” Thranduil breathed, sounding still completely dazed.

There was a pause.

“…we’re gunna do it again though right?” Bard had barely finished his sentence before Thranduil was responding.

“Gods yes.”


	86. modern au in which thranduil is a reclusive millionaire and legolas is homeschooled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> modern au in which thranduil is a reclusive millionaire and legolas is homeschooled - and bard gets hired as his tutor and he’s really uncomfortable at first because he’s just a humble teacher and now he has to come to this huge mansion and deal with a little aristocrat every day and the fact that thranduil is both hot and intimidating as hell is not helping, why does he keep bringing me coffee, why did he offer me a ride home, wait is he watching me teach, what’s happening
> 
> Rated: T

Bard looked at the house, paused, then looked down at the address he had been given and back up to the house again. Only it wasn’t a house at all, even the word mansion wouldn’t really do it justice.

Bard recognised that there were rich people, and then there were _rich_ people, the ones who made other rich people look poor. Well this place was definitely the latter kind of rich.

Bard almost turned around and left right there. Not because he didn’t want the job, no, he needed the job badly, but he wished he didn’t look quite so scruffy. Unfortunately he couldn’t work out if being scruffy or being late would be a deadlier sin, so he steeled himself and made his way up the drive in his worn jeans and plain shirt.

See, Bard had known that they were rich, anyone who was willing to pay a tutor that much to homeschool their seven year old child was obviously going to be rich, and he had recognised the address as the rich part of town.

But he hadn’t realised that he was this rich, like, multimillionaire aristocratic kind of rich. Oh well, didn’t change the fact that he needed the money, so he was going to have to suck up his nervousness and (pointlessly) try to smooth down his hair.

Somewhat tentatively Bard buzzed the intercom at the huge gate and waited.

“Hello?” Came a prim voice through the surprisingly clear intercom (Bard supposed it was worth so much it should be a completely clear sound).

“Yeah, um, hi. I’m Bard Bowman, the new tutor to Legolas?” Bard replied a little awkwardly, he hoped he had pronounced the name right, he didn’t bother to try and say the surname without hearing it first, how many Legolas’ could there be in there anyway?

“Ah yes, Mr. Bowman.” Was all the voice said, but the gate then started to open (definitely not making Bard jump) and he made his way up the ridiculous driveway.

Bard was completely at a loss for what to do when he reached the towering doors so he decided to treat them as normal doors and knocked a couple of times – although not with the huge knockers attached to it, lord knows how loud they would be or even if they were meant for actual usage or just pretentious decoration.

“Mr. Bowman. Come in, I am Feren, I see to the estate and it’s general maintenance.” Feren started, already striding away and clearly expecting Bard to follow, so he quickly scurried to catch up. “Obviously you already know what you are expected to teach so I will not bore you reiterating all of that. You will be required between nine and four weekdays which I am sure you are also well aware of, although it is possible that if master Legolas is not making the desired progress then that might be extended – if amenable to you, of course you will be paid overtime if this happens.

“Lunch is at one in the dining room, I am sure master Legolas will show you to it. Unsurprisingly your own abilities will be evaluated but given your resume and track record I am sure there will not be any issues. Any problems you find yourself with should be brought to me and if that is everything I shall introduce you to your pupil.” Feren reeled off, raising an imperious brow at Bard subtly inquiring if he did have any questions.

“Yeah actually, aren’t I going to meet my employer? Thranduil Oropero- ” Bard trailed off, knowing he was butchering the name.

“While _Lord_ Oropherion may conduct a brief meeting with you it is unlikely to happen today. Which may be a good thing.” Feren explained with a pointed look at his clothes. “Understand that Lord Oropherion is a very private man and does not like to be bothered. It is unlikely you will have any contact with him beyond one brief meeting at some point. And no, in all likelihood he will not warn as to when he plans to do this. Is that everything?”

“Um yeah, I think so.” Bard answered, he did not think Feren was unfriendly per-say, just busy and brusque in the way busy people were, well, and slightly judgemental, but frankly in this environment Bard was judging himself too.

“Excellent. This way then.” Feren led the way through a pair of double doors. “This is the drawing room, where you will conduct your classes, the nearest bathroom is down the hallway on the left third door on the right.” People still had those?! “And this, is master Legolas.” Feren introduced.

Legolas was a small and slight boy with beautiful straight blonde hair with a couple of neat braids that Bard knew his girls would be envious of the moment they saw it. His eyes were blue and full of curiosity, he looked remarkably friendly for a little aristocrat, but the most surprising thing by far was most definitely that the little boy was wearing pyjamas.

Certainly it was still early, but they knew Bard was coming today at nine. For some reason he had expected the poor boy to be stuffed in a ridiculous suit or some kind, well they were suit pyjamas at least, covered in little bows and arrows and who Bard figured was supposed to be Robin Hood.   

“Hello, I’m Bard, I’m going to be your teacher.” Bard smiled, kneeling to one knee to shake the kid’s hand and be on eye level. Legolas approached tentatively and shook Bard’s hand (or at least a seven year olds approximation of a proper handshake).

“Mm Legolas. Aren’t I supposed to call you Mr. Bowman?” He asked suspiciously.

“Well, I much prefer Bard. Aren’t I supposed to call you master Legolas?” Bard smiled back, chuckling slightly at the way Legolas scrunched up his face at the title.

“No, Legolas is good. And so is Bard.” He stated firmly, nodding his head like he just made a serious decision.

“Right well, I shall leave you two to it.” Feren said after witnessing a successful introduction, clearly having other things to do, Bard didn’t mind, in fact he preferred it.

“So Legolas, how old are you?” Bard asked even though he already knew, sitting on the floor and crossing his legs, smiling as Legolas dropped rather unceremoniously to his bum as well. His movements were interesting, he had already noticed, some were infused with so much grace, whereas other were completely inelegant.

“Seven and a half.” He grinned, wearing his age like a badge of honour as all children did. “How old are you?” He questioned and Bard smiled again, his natural inquisitive nature was probably going to make him a good student.

“How old do you think I am?” Bard shot back, children’s perception of age could often be highly amusing, sometimes he was twenty, other times he was sixty.

“Hmmm, well you look about as old as my ada, and he is thirty eight, I know because I got him all the candles and he couldn’t blow them out so he made me help and together we could do it. So are you that old?” Legolas smiled at him and Bard was genuinely surprised, not only by how clever or at least logical the kid was, but also by the fact that his father (presuming that is what ada meant of course) didn’t sound like a cold aristocrat. Maybe he was the judgemental one.

“Very clever Legolas! I am thirty six so you were very close.” Bard beamed at him, loving the way it made Legolas’ face light up too, proud of himself. “Can I ask you what your favourite things to learn are? Numbers or stories or about space? Anything really.” That way he would know how best to space the lessons, making sure to always have something he would enjoy fairly regularly.

“I like stories but I like hearing them better than readin them.” Legolas answered with a thoughtful expression, and really that was a very aware answer for such a young child. “I like plants and stuff too.”

“That awesome, we can go have lessons out in the garden if Feren lets us when it’s sunny.” Bard proposed, he didn’t see why they couldn’t, but he’d rather not promise when he didn’t know if he could deliver. “What about anything you don’t like?” Bard continued, it would be useful to know because it would probably be his weakest area, and Bard could really work on making it enjoyable and surround those lessons with ones he enjoyed more.

“Numbers.” Legolas answered immediately, scowling a little before a small smile sprouted back through. “But ada says if I do well and work hard at them he will let me start archery lessons.” He grinned, and Bard saw his golden ticket (although he wasn’t sure he needed one with such a friendly boy, he felt absolutely terrible for expecting an aristocratic brat).

“Oh really?” Bard commented in an exaggerated tone with a conspiratorial raised eyebrow. “You know, I’m very good at archery.”

“Yeah?!” Legolas exclaimed happily, before growing a little suspicious. “How good? As good as Robin Hood?” He inquired, pointing at his pyjamas and looking like something akin to a detective trying to weasel out a liar, Bard did his best to remain deadly serious (seeming).

“Well obviously no one is as good as _Robin Hood_.” He replied pointedly, which by the satisfied nod from the boy, was the correct answer. “But I have won a few medals and trophies.”

“That is so cool!” Shrieked a delighted Legolas, suddenly reeling off a million questions which Bard happily answered.

He told him that they were World Championship and Olympic medals but he wasn’t sure how much that meant to a seven year old. Truth be told he was set to completely dominate the field of archery in the world circuit. But then he got his girlfriend pregnant and married her instead (well he would have anyway, he loved her unreservedly but they just did it a bit sooner than originally planned) and it was either support baby girl or support archery, and really, that wasn’t even a question.

“Wait! Do you think if I do well in my numbers you could teach me how to do archery too?” Legolas asked in an excited voice, clearly having already decided that he liked Bard a lot.

“If it’s okay with your ada then I don’t see why not.”

He chattered to Legolas about archery and other little things all morning, planning just to get to know Legolas today and start their lessons tomorrow. At one on the dot, Legolas sprung up and started dragging Bard to the dining room.

“Come on bard! My tummy is rumbly.” He complained and Bard laughed, allowing himself to be pulled by the hand down one of the hallways.

Their lunch was laid out for them, little sandwiches on ridiculous silver plates, especially ridiculous when Bard realised it had dinosaur ham inside (not that he minded, he had three kids, he knew how awesome dinosaur ham was), pom-bear crisps and an array of salad (which Bard was surprised to note Legolas tucked into with enthusiasm).

“I have to ask, are you planning on wearing pyjamas all day, in fact, are you allowed?” Bard asked with a curious smile as Legolas brushed off the crumbs on his aforementioned pyjamas and grabbed Bard’s hand, leading him back to the drawing room.

“Ada doesn’t mind and I ‘fink they’re comfy.” Legolas shrugged. “Ada stays in his jimjams all day like me if he isn’t busy.”

Honestly the more Legolas talked about his father, the more curious Bard became, not sounding like the cold and reclusive aristocrat he had been expecting – of course, his son my just be the exception.

By the time it was Bard’s time to leave he and Legolas had talked about everything, his favourite place to go (the woods with his ada to feed the deer), his favourite book (but only if ada did the voices), his favourite colour (silver like ada’s hair, he hopes his hair is that colour one day too), and his favourite day of the week (Sunday because ada always always always clears the whole day just for him) among other things.

One thing had become very, very apparent, Legolas’ favourite thing in the whole wide world was his father. And Bard found himself revaluating the man before he had even met him. Although, as Legolas had skipped off down the hall after saying goodbye calling for his ‘ada’, Bard could swear he saw a cascade of silvery-blonde hair scoop him up.

Teaching Legolas was remarkably easy. He could be stubborn and got easily frustrated when he couldn’t grasp something quickly (which wasn’t too much as he was an extremely clever little boy), but those things were easily overcome with thoughts of archery and Bard had learnt from Legolas’ talkative nature, a desire to make Thranduil proud.

Previously Bard would’ve maybe been a little concerned about an aristocratic father possibly putting pressure on the boy, but Bard knew from Legolas that this was a man who had pyjama day’s with his son ever week and bought dinosaur ham for himself just as much as his seven year old, so he wasn’t particularly worried about that. Legolas just genuinely seemed to want to make his dad proud.

The only other thing Bard noticed from Legolas’ steady stream of chatter, was that he talked about anything and everything. Except his mother. Of course he was not about to ask Legolas, just from the absence of both mother and talk of her told him enough, and he knew from experience that people talked about it when they felt able, and pressuring them to before they were ready never helped one bit.

Bard guessed it turned out that he and the reclusive aristocrat had something in common after all.

It was Friday, during their history lesson, when Bard finally met his employer, although to be honest from the amount Legolas talked about him, he felt like he already knew him.

Which is probably why his appearance took him by surprise. He had been hearing about him from Legolas’ point of view, so obviously he had not mentioned that his father was positively **_the_** most beautiful thing on the planet, bar nothing and no one. It was utterly intimidating.

He didn’t even know how to describe him. He was tall, so very tall, but there was nothing remotely lanky about him, his legs seemed to go on _forever_ inside what was even to Bard’s untrained eye an expensive and fashionable suit. He moved with an elegance that should’ve been impossible but looked completely effortless, like he was gliding instead of walking.

His face was both sharp and soft. His cheekbones were high and his jawline was strong and yet he was all smooth planes of creamy alabaster skin, Bard could hardly imagine how good a love bite would look against the pale column of his throat (and that was hardly an appropriate thought to be having). 

His eyes were a cold piercing blue that seemed as if it could look right into your soul and they were set off by the combination of fair skin and surprisingly dark eyebrows. But by far the most stunning thing about him was his hair.

It fell long and straight around his shoulders and down his back and chest. It’s colour should’ve been impossible, it looked like spun-silk, as if the light of the very stars was woven into it. And it looked so soft Bard wanted to bury his hands in it (in more than one context), he could see why Legolas wanted his hair to be this colour one day.

Rather embarrassingly belatedly, Bard realised that Legolas’ father had said something but Bard had not noticed in favour of staring like a gormless fish (something that Legolas’ father had definitely noticed if his smirk was anything to go by).

“Sorry, what?” Bard asked, cringing as soon as he had said it. Stunning first impression he was making.

“I said, I am Thranduil, as I am sure you’ve worked out. How is my son today?” Thranduil repeated, amusement lacing his tone, and dear god his voice was like liquid gold on top of everything else. Thranduil lifted up Legolas and held him against his side, today Legolas was sporting pyjamas with vibrant green trees on them.

“Oh, um right, he’s good, doing well, um, lord Oropherion.” Bard responded, and by this point he just wanted the earth to swallow him up he was making such a mess off it.

“I assure you that Thranduil is fine, unless you would prefer to call me lord.” Thranduil replied with what Bard would’ve called a leer had it been anyone else, but what the hell would someone like Thranduil be doing leering at someone like Bard?

“Thranduil.” Bard smiled back a little nervously – he’s pretty sure Thranduil could make just about anyone nervous.   

“Excellent. And how is my son’s favourite teacher today?” Thranduil asked, and if Bard didn’t know any better he would think that Thranduil’s tone was flirtatious, but that just didn’t make sense, maybe it was a tactic to unnerve him.

“I’m Legolas’ only teacher.” Bard pointed out with a raised eyebrow and a smile, Thranduil sent a considerably more wolfish one back.

“True, although I can assure you that even if Legolas had every teacher in the world at his disposal, you would still be his favourite. He talks about you endlessly.” Thranduil informed him, letting Legolas reach from his arms to select a book from one of the shelves.

“Really, because I would say that it is you he talks about endlessly.” Bard countered, and he felt warm as he saw Thranduil’s face soften and he gave his son a small kiss on the cheek.

“Is that so my little leaf?” Thranduil grinned, nuzzling into his son’s cheek and making him laugh and try to fight him off, and really, Bard was not equipped to handle such a beautiful man being such a wonderful father.

“This one.” Legolas beamed, handing Thranduil a book, apparently they were having story time.

“Again, again!” Thranduil cried in mock exasperation, making his son laugh harder. “Well alright then I suppose.”

“Bard hasn’t heard it yet.” Legolas protested. “And he really likes Robin Hood!”

“Ah yes, I have heard about your prowess with a bow. Apparently you won a medal at the olompucs.” Thranduil smiled, clearly pronouncing it the way Legolas had when he had told him the story.

“Uh, yeah.” Bard smiled. “Just a bronze though.” He continued, it had never been a boatsful man, and it was difficult not to be humble around such grandeur.

“Is that so? Because as far as I am aware you were set to utterly _dominate_.” Thranduil emphasised the word and Bard blushed like a twelve year old with a crush.

“Maybe.” Bard smiled self-depreciatingly. “But I guess we’ll never know. How did you know anyway?”

“If you think I don’t do a thorough background check on everyone who works under my roof then I am afraid you are sorely mistaken. Although I must admit, I didn’t expect my son’s new tutor to be so…impressive in person.” And Thranduil was definitely dragging his eyes up Bard appreciatively although bard could not fathom why, so naturally he blushed again, not used to the praise or the appraisal, let alone from someone like Thranduil.

“Ada can we read the story now?” Legolas asked, nudging the book at his father but looking between them curiously, Bard hoped he knew what was going on because Bard sure as hell had no idea (well he had a vague idea but frankly that seemed utterly ludicrous so he was ignoring it as an option).

So they read the story, and Thranduil really did do some excellent voices, and Legolas agreed to read a few pages aloud in the middle so that then they could skip his literacy lesson for the day (which was what they were supposed to be doing right now anyway, not that Bard minded, Thranduil was absolutely fascinating).

At the end of the story, Thranduil had to retreat back to his study for the rest of the day to get on with his own work, giving Legolas a cuddle and dragging his eyes up Bard before rolling his name off of that tongue in thanks. Bard would like to hear his name coming from that voice a lot more.

After what Feren had said on his first day, Bard wasn’t entirely sure what to make of what happened next. Instead of the one brief meeting he had been told he would get, Thranduil normally found time to visit their lessons every single day, sometimes he even took lunch with them, which going by how much it thrilled Legolas and confused the staff, had not been happening before.

Bard asked Legolas about it during a maths lesson once.

“Legolas, did your father not used to eat with you at lunch time?” He asked nonchalantly, hoping the seven year old wouldn’t call him out on his nosiness.

“No. He used to work at lunch. Now he has to work a bit later before he is done but I like him having lunch with us and coming to see us.” Legolas smiled at him.

“Oh, that’s good then.” Bard answered, happy to get back to the work but Legolas apparently wasn’t done talking as he copied down some numbers.

“It’s because he likes you.” Legolas said simply but managing to bemuse Bard all the more.

Just as a friend surely (even though Bard knew that not all of his looks were just friendly) but still, what on earth would a multi-million-quite-possibly-billion-aire want with a scruffy (because he always was just a little on the shabby side) poor tutor? He had no idea.

But still, the weeks wore on and Thranduil continued to spend time with them, joining them for lunch and at random intervals during the day. They took Bard out to see where the wild deer they fed were, and promised Legolas that if he did well in the next maths test then they could organise an archery lesson as well (which Thranduil was more than happy with).

What was more surprising was the way Thranduil would sometimes bring some work into the drawing room and work while they did. And Feren looked like he was about to die of shock when he came in to see Thranduil passing Bard a cup of freshly made tea. Bard took his tea – in a Thomas the tank engine mug (Thranduil had smirked when he handed it over) and sipped it, it was perfect.

“You know.” Bard chuckled, looking at where Legolas was drawing some pictures, today’s pyjamas were blue and silver and had boats on them. “I’m beginning to wonder if you have bought him any actual clothes, or if Pyjamas are all he owns.” Bard grinned, and Thranduil smirked back before turning a soft look on his son.

“He prefers pyjamas and I don’t see why it matters, he knows he can’t leave the house in pyjamas, he just finds them more comfy, so I don’t see the problem.” Thranduil shrugged, and Bard had to admit, he couldn’t think of any real reason why he needed to wear ‘real clothes’.

“Yeah, I suppose we would all live in our pjs if we could” He grinned at Thranduil, what he couldn’t give to never have to leave them.

“Feel free to leave some here.” Thranduil replied, voice like silk, and then with a wink he sauntered off.

Did that really just happen?

Although to be honest, incidents like that weren’t exactly rare, in fact they were to the point that Bard couldn’t actually work out if he was serious or not.

(Bard really hoped he was serious but had no idea how to find out or what to do about it if he did).

When Thranduil had discovered that Bard took the bus and then walked every day, he started offering to drive him home.

Bard had accepted the offer, it would be good to get back to his kids slightly faster and not leave them with his lovely but old neighbour for longer than necessary, she already did too much for him, it was nice having someone looking out for Bard again, and Hilda did it happily.

Bard had been expecting Thranduil to point him to a driver and one of his many members of staff to drive him home. Instead Thranduil told Legolas to pick a car and Thranduil drove. Which led to Bard in the passenger seat of some big four by four hybrid, Legolas chattering away in the back seat, and Thranduil taking directions to the poor side of town which was causing Bard a bit of embarrassment to say the least.

“You can just drop me here its fine.” Bard hedged when they reached a set of traffic lights.

“Nonsense, how much further is it?” Thranduil waved off, pulling away from the lights.

“Um, not far.” Bard admitted, hoping Thranduil would let him walk it.

“Well then, we might as well take you all the way there.” He stated firmly, turning down the next Road Bard indicated.

“And if I had said it was ages away yet?” Bard asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Then I couldn’t possibly let you walk.” Thranduil grinned and Bard knew he was beaten, settling down in the seat and trying not to feel too embarrassed by the terraced house they were pulling up in front of.

He had never been embarrassed about it before, he didn’t think that was a good example to set for his kids, not at least while they were to a certain extent sheltered from the realities of adult life. But honestly, it was all he could afford on his own, although on Thranduil’s salary each month had become slightly less of a struggle.

“This is me.” Bard smiled self-depreciatingly, before saying goodbye to Legolas and Thranduil and going to climb out of the car, but Thranduil caught his wrist.

“It’s lovely, but not quite as lovely as the three faces I see peering through the window.” Thranduil replied completely genuinely and it took Bard aback a little, he was also trying not to focus on the fact that Thranduil had not let go of his wrist.

“You could meet them if you like?” Bard suggested, he wasn’t sure how much contact Legolas had with other children, it would probably be good for him, Thranduil’s face lit up at the offer.

“Alas, I do not have that much time to spare today, but know that we fully intend to take you up on that offer in the future.” Thranduil answered before reluctantly letting go of Bard’s wrist. “We will see you tomorrow.” He declared before driving off, Legolas waving from the back.

It surprised Bard a little when another of Thranduil’s staff, Galion? Maybe? Was waiting for him outside his house astride another car – also a hybrid he noted. And that was how things went, Thranduil couldn’t spare the time in the morning, so Galion picked him up but in the afternoon, he drove him back, usually accompanied by Legolas.

Because of the time he took about each day to have lunch with them and spend some time with them, Thranduil could never stay after dropping him and meet his children, though he genuinely seemed to want to, probably because they were Bard’s main topic of conversation. But Thranduil apparently categorically refused to work after supper, because he didn’t like leaving Legolas on his own in the evening (or even the afternoon really).

Bard also learned that every single car Thranduil owned (because Legolas seemed to pick a different one every day) was either a hybrid or just completely electric (and Bard was beginning to wonder if he had every single variation of hybrid and electric that currently existed there were so many) but he guessed it made sense, or at least wasn’t that surprising as he caught glimpses of Thranduil out in the woods with his deer and much of the mansion was solar powered.

He had tried to give Thranduil some money for the cost of running the cars to him every day (even electricity wasn’t free) but he had been waved off with a smile.

“Don’t be silly Bard, I drive you because I want to, your company is quite reward enough.” And Bard hadn’t been quite sure how to respond to that (so as was becoming par for the course, he blushed).

Bard had found out a few things about Thranduil, or Lord Oropherion as he was known by most (everyone apart from Legolas and Bard apparently). Despite being an advocate for the environment and the head of several charities, he was generally regarded as a cold, reclusive, antisocial, aristocratic businessman. Which did not fit Bard’s experience of him at all.

He had never seen him be anything but warm with his son, and yes he may be reclusive (and bard still was not entirely sure why that was) but he could hardly be called antisocial when he sought out Bard’s company so often in the house. And he might be an aristocrat and a high powered business man, but he also did the voices when reading stories to his son and fed wild deer out of his hand.

He had also become his friend. There was no other word for it really, he had never felt like his employer, not really, he had been friendly and flirty from day one (and Bard still wasn’t sure what to make of that). Bard felt like he was the only one who was really aware of the huge class gap between them (less of a gap, more of a gaping chasm honestly) but Thranduil seemed to genuinely not care about that, at least, not with Bard.

Bard was and home on a Sunday, playing hide and seek with his kids (apparently Sigrid would never get tired of it) when the phone rang.

“Hello?” Bard answered.

“Bard good you’re in.” Came Feren’s haggard voice (busier than usual it would seem). “Lord Oropherion was hoping you would be able to come in today and give master Legolas that archery lesson in the gardens.”

“Um it’s Sunday?” Bard pointed out, he knew that they had been planning the lesson outside of his normal hours, that wasn’t surprising, what surprised him was that he knew Sundays was the day Thranduil and Legolas always spent together, without exception according to Legolas, Bard was surprised to be invited into that.

It then occurred to him that Thranduil may well be trying to cheer Legolas up if he had been called away on urgent business, the thought was enough to make Bard want to say yes.

“Yes obviously I know that. Can you do it or not?” Feren snapped. “Sorry. It is a little hectic down here at the moment. Honestly they would not be the only ones grateful for your presence, if only to entertain master Legolas.”

“Well yeah I mean I guess I can, but I’ll have to bring my kids?”

“Yes yes that’s fine. Galion is on his way with the car. Thank you Bard.” Feren finished, hanging up the phone.

“Okay guys, who wants to go and see where I work?” He asked, and they all seemed perfectly happy to go, probably curious to meet Legolas and Thranduil and their great big house.

By some small miracle, they were all actually ready to go by the time the car arrived and they piled in, introducing themselves to Galion as they did.

When they turned up on the drive, it wasn’t five seconds before Legolas was bounding out the house and hugging Bard’s middle, which while not odd was perhaps a little more desperate than usual. He petted Legolas’ head lightly, waiting for him to extract himself, although he didn’t seem like he was going to today.

“Legolas, want to meet my kids?” Bard asked, not wanting to peel the kid off him but knowing that some children around his age might at least help.

Legolas nodded against his stomach before stepping back slightly and shuffling his feet, he had never been nervous meeting Bard, but apparently he thought kids his age slightly more important.

“This is Sigrid, Bain and Tilda.” Bard introduced, smiling at his kids. “Guys, this is Legolas.” Who he had to admit, he was pretty close to loving like his own child at this point.

They all mumbled out shy little hellos even though Bard knew for a fact that not a single one of them were shy usually. He rolled his eyes affectionately and grabbed his equipment out of the boot of the car. The shyness was immediately overcome with excitement after that.

Thranduil had bought Legolas his own bow, which he very kindly agreed to share with Tilda as she was too little to use any of Bard’s old ones. He set up the targets and made it absolutely crystal clear that you were not allowed to collect your arrows until all the bows were down (they were only training arrows, but they could still hurt).

And they all had a go. He expected them all to be rubbish, because as far as he knew not a single one of them had ever handled a bow before in their life, so when Sigrid was making proper shots and hitting near the middle of the target almost every time, Bard went over to her.

When she saw him coming she looked shy and started picking at her clothes nervously.

“Darlin’?” He asked confused, raw talent was one thing, knowing the proper stances and draws was quite another.

“Don’t be mad da, please. Just at school they started an archery club at lunchtime and I knew how much you used to love it so I thought I would give it a go but then they said I was really good and they’ve been working with me and I, I’m sorry da.” She rushed out, confusing Bard significantly.

“Why would I be mad? Hey why are you apologising?” Bard asked sincerely, squeezing his daughter’s arms, she looked quite upset and he really couldn’t figure why. “Darlin’ I am _thrilled_! You like archery, you’re good at it! That’s amazing, my little girl! Just, why didn’t you tell me? I’m not mad, I just don’t understand.”

“Because you had to give it up for me.” Her words cut him like a knife and she was crying now too. “You had to give it up because of me you would’ve been the best and, and, I’m taking it away from you all over again and that’s not fair and I- ” Bard yanked his eldest into a tight hug, not wanting to hear any more, just wanting to hold her tight until she stopped crying.

“I would give up a hundred gold medals for you darlin’, and do you know what? I would still be the winner.” He said into her hair, and she seemed to calm down a little. “And if this is what you want to do then I will help teach you and I will do everything I can to buy you the stuff, although I’m going to be honest, you might have to get a part time job when you can. I’m not sure how much I can spare, but I absolutely promise I will try.”

“Really da?” She asked tentatively.

“Of course Sigs.” He answered firmly, and with one last squeeze he let her go and passed her back the bow. “You’re keeping your elbow to high.” He told her with a smile.

The next one landed right on the bull’s-eye.

Bard spent most of the time teaching Legolas, not only because he was technically supposed to be giving him a lesson, but mainly because he seemed a little dispirited. While Tilda had worked her magic in putting a smile on his face and making him laugh, Bard could tell that something was off. He should have been bouncing off the walls with excitement, not to mention the hug he had gotten when he arrived.

“Is everything okay Legolas?” Bard asked quietly as he sighed when his arrow missed its mar completely, like he didn’t particularly care, which was strange because Legolas had some serious natural talent and normally he got really frustrated when he got something he knew he could do wrong.

“I’m okay.” Legolas replied, but everything told him that he decidedly was not okay from his disheartened tone of voice and body language.

“Are you a little sad that ada couldn’t spend Sunday with you like normal?” Bard pushed gently, wanting to be sure of what the problem was, he cared too much about the kid (and his dad) not to.

“Yeah. But I know it isn’t his fault.” Legolas explained rapidly, clearly worried that Bard would think he was being silly about something Thranduil couldn’t help.

“It’s okay, I’m sure he won’t be working for too long.” Bard reassured, handing Legolas another arrow.

“He’s not working. He’s poorly.” Legolas told him while carefully notching his arrow. “I’m glad you’re here. He says he’s going to be okay but I’m still glad you’re here with me.”

Bard wasn’t sure if his heart broke for Legolas’ words or if he was worried about Thranduil – both, it was both.

“Is your ada here?” Thranduil asked and Legolas nodded.

“Could you check if he is okay for me? I’m not supposed to go there when ada is poorly.” Legolas asked quietly, chewing on his lip. “I fink he would like it if you went to go see him anyway. He likes you a lot.”

Bard knew he probably shouldn’t, but when it was time for lunch he pulled Feren aside.

“Look, I know you are busy, but could you just watch them for a bit.”

“Why? Oh, you want to go check on Lord Oropherion.” Feren deduced with a knowing look, Bard ignored it, now was not the time to deal with that.

“Will you tell me where his room is?” Bard asked, getting to the point.

“Lord Oropherion said no one other than myself or the doctor is to see him. However, honestly I think you might be able to help, or at least he might be glad to see you. I will tell you were his room is but if he asks, you did not learn it from me, got it?”    

Of course Bard agreed and was given the directions (because the house was so bloody large it required directions) to his rooms. And with only slight hesitation, Bard knocked on the large ornate doors.

“Yes?” Came a slightly thinner than usual voice.

“Thranduil?” Bard said tentatively as he entered the room, picking out the voice form through another set of open doors where the bed was located.

“Bard what on earth are you doing here?!” Thranduil’s panicked voice came from the bed, Bard could hear him trying to organise (or hide under) the covers. But he wasn’t being told to leave.

“I wanted to check on you. Legolas said you weren’t very well and I was worried.” He explained, coming towards the bed cautiously, not wanting to cause his friend – because that was what he was in this moment especially – any more distress.

“Oh.” Was his surprised response.

“So, are you okay?” Bard asked even though it was a dumb question and pulling up a chair to sit by his head.

“I guess that depends on your definition.” Thranduil laughed, but there was no mirth in it. Bard did not like the way he heard a note of loathing in his voice, and given that he knew it was not directed at him, that left only one person, Thranduil himself.

“Will you tell me?” Bard asked, taking in Thranduil’s washed out look and bloodshot eyes, reaching out and taking Thranduil’s hand before he really registered what he was doing.

“It is not easy. I do not talk about it, but I- I think I might like to tell you.” Thranduil spoke quietly, and Bard gave his hand a little squeeze. “I am sure we both know I am not the only widower in the room. I lost my wife in a fire. Her old family home, we were visiting her parents in Suffolk. Legolas was just a baby I grabbed him, I thought she was right behind me but- by the time I realised. I kept my little leaf safe and I got him out. Though I still bear the scars of that trip on my back.”

“The fire, being caught in that, fighting my way out of it sure Legolas was going to be dead from the smoke by the time I got out. The heat and the flames. The fear. I heard them screaming as they died, her parents, they were trapped in one of the rooms, the firefighters did not get to them in time.

“Normally I am okay now but I still have panic attacks, nightmares where I didn’t save Legolas, where I died to, where I can feel the way my back was literally burning as the flames licked at it. I woke up last night and I could not breathe, could feel smoke in my lungs again even though there was none. I passed out and Feren had heard me screaming and called the doctor. The panic attacks always leave me weak and after the flashbacks I find it harder to hold myself together. Legolas has no memories of the fire, I do not want him to have memories of this either.”

“Thran I’m so sorry. I know that’s never good enough but I truly am, you are so strong to get though that.” Bard replied, not knowing what else to say, squeezing his hand and cupping his cheek with the other, Thranduil leaned into it.

“Not strong enough.” Thranduil whispered and then, he started to cry.

And Bard didn’t know how to comfort a grow crying man, so he did what he did with his kids and without hesitation he climbed into the bed behind him and tugged him against his chest, doing his best to soothe him.

“I lost my wife in childbirth.” Bard whispered, he wasn’t sure why he was telling him, probably like Thranduil wasn’t sure why he had told Bard everything he just had. “With our youngest. I’m still not even sure what happened, she just stopped. I’m terrified every day that Tilda will start to blame herself for it.” Bard admitted and Thranduil held onto his arms as tight as he could.

For a moment, they both cried, holding onto each other, but steadily, as they held tight and just let had this moment, Bard calmed, and then so did Thranduil.

Thranduil twisted and tilted his head up and the next thing he knew the red lips he had been dreaming of for months were on his in a soft, slow kiss that he returned, it felt like a sweet release of something that had been long built up between them.

Bard didn’t know how long they kept kissing for, but it was wet from tears and lips and just everything they needed right now. Or probably ever again.

Eventually Bard says that he should probably head downstairs before Feren tears his hair out, and much to his surprise, Thranduil comes too. He checked he was okay, but Thranduil insisted, thinking he might feel better surrounded by family. And Bard was pretty sure he smiled his face off at the word.

Legolas tackle hugged them both (only he couldn’t really knock over two fully grown men) and showed his ada what he had learned. But after that, Tilda apparently decided that Thranduil was fair game and demanded he show her the deer. Which he did with a smile on that beautiful face of his and Bard’s little girl on his hip.

And that’s how Bard Bowman ended up dating _Lord_ Thranduil Oropherion, who was a completely ridiculous sap as it turned out.

Suddenly with a reason to leave the house, Thranduil did. His hold world had been confined to that house before, now there was a very significant part of it that lived out on the other side of town. So Thranduil started leaving the house more.

He went out and bought Bard and the kids things – even though Bard insisted they were fine – and booked fancy restaurants and took them all on holiday. And Bard made him dinner and took him to his favourite places and made him ridiculous sarcastic mix tapes with terrible songs.

A few months down the line and Bard and his kids moved in with Thranduil and Legolas – which was highly odd as Bard technically still worked there. But when the new school year came around Legolas asked Thranduil if he could go to school with Tilda instead of at home (although he spent a long time assuring his da that he still loved him and he was still the best teacher ever) and of course they let him, Tilda and Legolas grabbing each other’s hands and plunging into a new school year – and a brand new school and system for Legolas. He was a bright kid, he did well.

Bard categorically refused Thranduil’s offer not to get a job and just lounge around the house on the grounds that a) he would be incredibly bored, and b) he would feel like a kept man. When Bard made that comment Thranduil only waggled his eyebrows which lead to, well, yeah.

But the next day Bard came downstairs (one of the many staircases) to a huge delivery of targets and bows and arrows and went outside to find an entire range being set up on one of the fields. When he found Thranduil to ask him, he handed him a flyer that read ‘Bard Bowman’s Archery School’. The fees were incredibly low considering the top quality equipment Thranduil had purchased and the times were set for after school but with private lessons available in the day.  

But that was nothing compared to the beautiful longbow Thranduil gave to him. The wood was full of intricate carvings and Bard knew immediately that Thranduil had done them himself from the sketches and paintings he had found in his study.

“Show them you’ve still got it.” Thranduil told him with a wink. And Bard did.

Sundays were spent in pyjamas.

And when on Sunday a ring box fell out of the pocket of Thranduil’s pj’s, Bard told him to hold on one sec – much to Thranduil’s confusion and worry – whizzed up stairs and grabbed the ring box that he had stashed in his bedside drawer as well. They had apparently both decided they couldn’t wait a single day longer, ass Bard had been planning the very same thing for that evening.

They proposed together, laughing at themselves through their happy-tears until their eavesdropping children burst through the doors with a put-upon but smiling Feren who was carrying a cake (clearly baked by the children).

They married in the spring and stayed that way for the rest of their lives.

Sigrid and Legolas spent a startling number of years ruling their categories in archery. Bard might never have won his Olympic gold, but he ended up with two dedicated to him, four beautiful children and a husband that was utterly ridiculous and completely perfect.

Somehow, they had both fought their way through everything that had happened to them, and back to happiness once more, and this time, nothing snatched it away.

 


	87. A Barduil Birthday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s my birthday today!!!! :D so naturally I wrote about our favourite two goobers on the theme of birthdays….
> 
> Rated: G

 

Thranduil had been with Bard for a while now, but there was one key date that they either had not yet passed, or that Bard had managed to slip past Thranduil unnoticed.

Thranduil suspected the former, although he supposed the latter was possible given the stretches of time they were forced to spend apart in their own kingdoms, and how Bard hated to be made a fuss over.

But still, Thranduil knew the race of men must celebrate their begetting day, he often saw them having small parties and gatherings celebrating one individual, it was the only explanation.

And Thranduil wanted to know when Bard’s was. It would be the perfect opportunity to throw him a lavish party and an excellent excuse to stay in Dale for, oh, at the very least a week, Valar maybe even a whole month would be required for the merriment (for their merriment anyway).

His stubborn lover also wouldn’t be able to scold him for buying him expensive gifts if they were begetting day presents. He was already compiling a huge list of things he was going to get him. Not to mention arrangements for the massive party he was going to throw, the bigger they are the easier it is to slip away and ravish the person it is for.

The only problem was, he didn’t know when his begetting day was.

So naturally he went straight to Sigrid to ask her, she was infinitely more likely to tell him and manage not to blab to her da, in fact she would probably be more than useful to have on his surprise party team, she was surprisingly stealthy for a mortal and had infiltrated Bard’s home. Okay she lived there, but still, for the purposes of the super-secret party mission, she had infiltrated and was his woman on the inside. Or at least she would be.

So when he next visited Dale, which was only a few days later as he refused to let it go longer than a week at any one time – he had finally learnt to delegate, apparently a mortal lover in a different kingdom was all it took – he accompanied Sigrid on her visit to the market.

“So ada, what is it you wanted to ask me?” She smirked at him when they were finishing their errands.

“What on earth makes you think that _iell-nín_?” Thranduil asked, pretending to be offended, scandalised even that she would think such a thing.

“Because you hate the market, you claim it smells – which it does of course – so you refuse to go, it offends your delicate elven nose.” She grinned, knowing she had Thranduil beat.

“Ugh fine.” Thranduil gave up, sighing dramatically and making his daughter – because that’s exactly what she was – grin at him even wider. “I was hoping you could tell me when da’s begetting day is, I want to throw him a party.”

“What’s a begetting day?” She replied, genuinely puzzled.

“You know, I’ve seen mortals celebrating each other. It’s the day you celebrate your conception into this world.” Thranduil explained.

“What do yo- OH MY WORD. Oh that is disgusting. Ew ew ew. Images I did not want. I need to wipe my brain with something. Maybe I’ll stick my head in a barrel of fish that might do it with the smell.” Sigrid started babbling wildly, looking like she might actually throw up, she’d gone a little green.

“Sigrid what on earth is the matter?” Thranduil asked, torn between exasperated and concerned.

“Seriously! You seriously don’t know! Oh by the Valar you’re being serious. No! Just no. Okay.” Sigrid finished, composing herself a little. “We don’t celebrate our be- well, that.” She finished with a grimace.

“Well I know you celebrate something?”

“We celebrate out birthdays.” Sigrid explained, having regained herself.

“What do you mea- OH BY THE VALAR THAT IS DISGUSTING!” Thranduil recoiled, feeling like he wanted to wash, well, more than he did from being in the market anyway.

“Why!?”

“…have you never witnessed a birth!? You must at least know what is involved?” Thranduil pushed when she shook her head.

“Yeah, someone new comes into the world.” She answered a little naively, but Thranduil got the feeling she knew and just didn’t want to discuss the gory details – because why on arda _would_ you want to!

“But why would anyone want to celebrate that?! Or even remember it?! Birth is horribly painful!” He exclaimed, finding the concept hard to grasp.

“Why would anyone want to think about their parents doing it!?!?! Gods please stop bringing it up. How would you even know when that was?!”

“Well– ”

“No! Actually I don’t think I want to know. In fact please don’t tell me, ever. Anyway, da’s _birthday_ is just next week.” She informed him.

Thranduil couldn’t help the full body shudder that ran through him at the notion of ‘birth’, you’d have thought nature would have come up with a much better way to do it by now.  

They both returned home looking a little ill and waving off Bard’s concerns in favour of attempting to purge their memories somehow.

 

“You know, I’m a little surprised.” Bard said a couple of weeks later. “That my birthday managed to slip past you. I thought for sure you would’ve found out when it was and organised some ridiculous party.” Bard laughed, and it wasn’t at all bitter, like he’d wanted it after all, just genuinely surprised.

“Ugh please never say that word near me again.” Thranduil groaned, rebuying his face in the soft pillow. “I’m throwing you a random – but huge – party to celebrate your existence in general in a few months and not attributing it to any specific event that brought you into this world.”

“May I ask why?” Bard said, voice laced with affection and rubbing a hand on the small of Thranduil’s bare back.

“Because apparently celebrating your begetting is not what you do.” He muttered into the pillow.

“Begetting, wait do you mean- oh, ew, no! Birthdays Thran, what’s wrong with them?!” Bard moaned, giving Thranduil’s rear a playful slap.

“Seriously! Birth is utterly disgusting and highly painful.” Thranduil argued, still trying not to even think about it, watching his wife go through it once had been enough to scar it into his memory. It was ghastly.

“Birth is a beautiful thing!” Bard claimed, and it sounded like that was just one of those things people say to try and convince women to keep having babies.

“Have you seen it?” Thranduil stated pointedly.

“…no you’re right it’s disgusting.”

 

And that is how they ended up celebrating Bard’s ‘general existence’ in the middle of the summer, safely away from his birthday or around when he possibly could have been…begot.

As elves and mortals in Dale mingled, ‘General Existence Day’ became something of a trend in Dale.

 


	88. Bard has a minor freak out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have a little fic for ieatmyfeelings7‘s birthday, which in my time zone ended 9 minutes ago, but still, I WAS CLOSE! HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
> 
> So here’s a minor sexual identity crisis from Bard 
> 
> I wanted to title this 'Ben and Jerry and Thranduil' but my tags are meant to super briefly summarise the chappie :'(

 

Bard was having a little bit of a freak-out. He refused to call it a mid-life crisis, because no matter what Sigrid said he was only thirty six and that was not mid-lifed (at least it better bloody not be).

Then again maybe an exception could be made for a thirty six year old with a sixteen year old, and fifteen year old and a ten year old. They were probably going to send him to an early grave from stress anyway.

He was silently freaking out in his room as he tried (and failed) to fall asleep, just like he had been silently freaking out while walking home and making dinner and watching a film and getting his kids to bed.

Basically he was silently freaking out.

He was pretty sure Sigrid had noticed, but she was clearly waiting for a better time to ask him why he looked like he was losing his shit silently behind his eyes. No, losing his shit was a bit strong, freaking out, yeah, he’d stick to that.

The reason Bard was freaking out was tall, blond, beautiful, and sexy as hell.

And very male.

He had walked into Bard’s garage and Bard had stared, completely caught off-guard and unable to help himself. He had this porcelain skin that was smooth and flawless and so fair it should have washing him out, instead it just made him more vibrant.

His surprisingly dark eyebrows complimented that pale skin perfectly and set off his icy blue eyes, twinkling with mischief. His lips were red and pouty and his tongue had no right licking over them like that let alone while looking at Bard.

All this was framed by a strong jawline, sharp cheekbones and a waterfall or silvery blond hair that looked like it was spun from pure silk. And to top it all off, he was tall, made up of long lines and strong muscles and a pair of legs that just went _on_.

Bard had never been so instantly attracted to anyone before in his life. And he had never in his life been attracted to a man before.

The man was speaking to him, but Bard was finding it hard to take any of it in because now that face and body was accompanied by _that_ voice, it was rich and deep and words just rolled off his tongue like velvet.

Bard wanted to hear his own name roll off that tongue (he also wanted that tongue and his tongue to be certain places and that was freaking him out a little).

He thought he caught him say something about his car needing a new engine because the current one wasn’t working properly but frankly he could’ve been giving Bard a weather report for all he was able to concentrate on his words.

The man, Thranduil, had noticed Bard’s appreciative and stunned staring, he smirked a pretty devastating smirk, and tucked his phone number into Bard’s pocket, dragging his hand back out of his Bard's jean pocket in a way that wasn’t quite necessary and began to illicit a pretty embarrassing reaction (honestly he wasn’t sixteen anymore).

That only got worse when he practically purred in Bard's fucking ear, “I'm Thranduil, you should call me, Bard Bowman.” Running his elegant fingers over Bard’s name tag that happened to sit right over one of his nipples that were choosing this moment in his life to become sensitive.

So Bard had somehow managed to stumble through the day, dazed and freaking out about the fact that he was apparently into guys as well as girls, which was, unexpected to say the least.

He had zero problem with anyone, people could love whoever they loved as far as he was concerned, but still, it was a pretty surprising thing to discover about yourself after thirty six years of thinking you were straight.

But then Bard supposed that from the age of sixteen he had been preoccupied with his girlfriend, who then became his wife and mother to his kids, then she had died and taken a little piece of Bard with her, and Bard had been a little too distracted by the new-born baby and two youngsters that he was now the only parent to.

Come to think of it, he hadn’t even thought about anyone like that since his wife died, he’d been too preoccupied to notice any men _or_ women. And he and his wife had been sweethearts.

How was he only realising this now.

God it was too late for this, he needed to sleep or he would be dead on his feet tomorrow.

He ended up calling in sick, which was completely unheard of for him. But he had personal shit to deal with.

(He needed to get over the ‘man’ part so that he would call him and not lose his damn chance with the most strikingly beautiful person he had ever seen).

So Bard treated himself for once, he took a day to eat ice cream and adjust to this new realisation.

He may have also consulted google, which started throwing something called a ‘Kinsey scale’ at him, along with the word bisexual.

Sigrid came home from school, Tilda and Bain in tow as usual and found him on the sofa with a blanket and an empty Ben and Jerry’s.

“Guys can you go start dinner.” Sigrid asked tactically, knowing that Tilda would bounce off excitedly and Bain would feel obliged to follow and make sure she didn’t burn down the house.

“Soooo.” She asked, scooping up the empty Phish Food, Bard’s spoon still in it and letting out a low whistle. “That bad huh?”

“I may be attracted to men.” Bard stated a little lost sounding and looking at his daughter for help.

“Seriously? That’s all this is about? Jesus Christ da, get it together.” She sighed exasperated, slapping him upside the head. “And whoever the guy is who made you realise this, I suggest you call him.” She suggested on her way out the room (and taking Bard’s blanket with her).

Bard took his mobile and the number out of his pocket.

_So if I were to ask you out on a date? – Bard_

Bard sent, literally holding his breath for the answer, so it was a good job his phone pinged only moments later.

_I’d say pick me up at eight o’clock tonight, I’ve already booked a restaurant – Thranduil_

Bard barely had time to register the first text when a second one pinged through.

 _1 Greenwood Park lane, GW16 0MW_ , _wear something you wouldn’t mind being ripped off ;) – Thranduil_

His stomach felt like it was riddled with nerves and butterflies and that feeling you get just before the rollercoaster shoots off.

And he had a feeling Thranduil was going to be a real rollercoaster. But then, what was life without a little adventure?

And Bard had a feeling Thranduil was going to be a pretty good person to go adventuring with.

(He was).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My updates have slowed again and I apologise, but my fic for the barduil big bang is getting longer than expected so I am having to focus more time on that, but once I am done normal programming will resume (and you'll get a long fic from me) ;)
> 
> <3


	89. A Barduil Bagginshield dinner reservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 
> 
> imagine that modern au! bilbo and bard are friends and they both want to meet the other one’s boyfriend so they plan a double date except of course it turns out that it’s hate at first sight between thorin and thranduil and that date is an absolute distaster, they keep glaring at eachother and saying vicious remarks and thranduil leaves before dessert ‘cause he’s a fucking drama queen and bard stays for a while after that but almost punches thorin when he starts to offend thranduil and bilbo’s just crossed with everyone at this point
> 
> (very slightly altered from the actual prompt, but still pretty much the same ^.^)
> 
> Rated: T

 

“So we’ll see you guys at eight yeah?” Bard double, treble checked with his friend.

“Yep, so long as our sitter doesn’t bail, or yours.” Bilbo replied, Bard could hear him bustling around in his house.

“I would say we should throw them all in together, but god could you even imagine what Tilda and Frodo would get up to if left together?” Bard joked (although really he could hardly imagine the mischief that would ensue).

“I dread to think.” Bilbo agreed. “Also, five kids, what sitter in their right mind would agree to that.”

“I wouldn’t and four of them are mine, well, mine and Thranduil’s, but ours now really, I mean– ” Bard tripped over himself, not wanting to give away his news before he could tell his friend in person.

“I get it you’re all one big happy family, Legolas is basically your son, your kids love the mysterious Thranduil yadda yadda yadda.” Bilbo interrupted his tongue tied friend.

“God I always forget that you’ve never actually met him, how is that even possible.” Bard chuckled, two years really is a long time for Thranduil to manage to evade Bard’s friend, but then, most of the time he was genuinely busy, or they couldn’t get a sitter so Thranduil would watch them while Bard met up with his friend, and sometimes Thranduil was just avoiding of course.

“Your boyfriend is always ‘busy’.” Bilbo joked, and Bard could hear the air quotes from his sarcastic friend.

“Yeah well, he’s promised to be sociable this evening.” Bard informed him.

“Did you threaten to withhold sex?” Bilbo asked, only half joking.

“No, why would I punish myself as well.” Bard laughed. “I did the exact opposite.” Bard grinned down the phone, making his friend laugh. “And I’ll finally get to meet Thorin, how did you get him to agree to come tonight?” Bard asked, neither of them had the most sociable other halves.

“Me and Dis coerced him into it.” Bilbo admitted somewhat smugly.

“Ganging up on your boyfriend with his sister, that’s low.” Bard pretended to judge Bilbo, not that he blamed him, if Thranduil had a sister he would definitely gang up on him with her as well.

“Whatever Bard, I hate to even think what you think counts as a sexual favour, you better keep it in your pants at the restaurant.” Bilbo warned, semi-seriously.

“Bilbo that was one time and we were in a car park, I wouldn’t even call it public.” Bard protested indignantly.

“I still had to post your bloody bail, public indecency really Bard.” Bard meant to protest but ended up just sniggering at the memory, it had been totally worth it. Bilbo would have met Thranduil then if Thranduil hadn’t been so tired and bitchy (well he was also very proud of himself for getting so loud they were caught), but still, not an ideal time to meet a friend.

“Anyway. Tonight, eight o’clock, see you there.”

“See you there, bet you’re later than we are.”

“You’re on.” Bard challenged before hanging up the phone, even if they were the later one he could always blame it on the four children they to contend with.

He and Bilbo both managing to get sitters and their respective boyfriends organised and ready at the same time was nothing short of a small miracle, so Bard was really looking forward to it, and Thranduil was actually getting ready without being nagged, he thought the evening was going to go pretty well.

He thought wrong.

They were later than Bilbo and his boyfriend, Thorin, but it wasn’t because of the kids, it was because Thranduil had been after a quickie and Bard was really bad at saying no when Thranduil’s hands went wandering while he was trying to dress – also why on earth would he ever pass up sex with that beautiful man, a beautiful man that had just agreed to marry him as well, he was looking forward to telling Bilbo.   

When they arrived, they were actually only twenty minutes late which meant Bilbo had probably only been there himself for about five, but still.

“Sorry, sorry. I know we’re late.” Bard apologised for them as he slid into the posh booth, Thranduil gliding in far more elegantly beside him.

Bard could’ve sworn he heard “Probably princess over here brushing his hair for three hours” muttered out by Thorin (or who he assumed must be Thorin anyway), but surely no one could be so rude.

“Opposed to a mop of hair that looks like it has never seen a brush.” Came Thranduil’s biting response, okay apparently Bard hadn’t been hearing things.

“Okay Thorin can we just cool it?” Bilbo asked, even though it was clear he was going to be in trouble if he didn’t do as told.

“So I’m not to expect an apology?” Thranduil continued, and as much as Thorin had started it (though for what reason he could not fathom) he really wished Thranduil would leave it. Thorin looked like he was practically snarling at the very idea of apologising. “Thought not. Charming boyfriend you have here Bilbo, lovely to finally meet you by the way.” Thranduil bit back, turning his whole body to Bilbo and effectively cutting Thorin out of the table conversation.

“Um – ” Bilbo replied, clearly just as lost as Bard, he had honestly never met two people who had hated each other so quickly, let alone started dishing out the insults as their first exchange of words. Sure, Thranduil disliked a lot of people, Bard knew that, but he usually kept his behaviour far more passive aggressive than this. Apparently something in Thorin instantly rankled him.

“Why should I apologise, you were the one who was late. Too busy picking out your clothes.” Thorin sneered, and Bard tried to intercept the conversation, but Thranduil was already biting back at Thorin.

“Well, at least my clothes are clean, honestly look at you, do you even know what a washing machine is? And actually no, we were late because Bard was fucking me against a wall.” Thranduil followed this up with one of his most derisive body checks on Thorin that would make pro footballers self-conscious. “Obviously you’re a little old for such strenuous activities.”

“I’ll have you kno– ” Thorin growled back, but that was all he got out before Bilbo interrupted.

“If you finish that sentence you’re not getting any for a month. At least” Bilbo grit out, clearly getting annoyed at the two and their behaviour, Thorin clammed up immediately, Thranduil smirked.

“Okay, so, that was delightful. Shall we order?” Bard broke in awkwardly as Thranduil and Thorin embarked on the glare match of the century.

Together, Bard and Bilbo managed to get there orders placed, even as Thranduil and Thorin continued to snipe at each other. And really, they were acting like complete children – only Bard knew that none of their combined children would ever behave in such a way – but, frankly, Bard was a little childish too, and Thorin started it, so he didn’t feel obligated  to reel in Thranduil (even if he was burying his face in his hands like Bilbo).

Bard and Bilbo attempted to carry on their conversation ignoring their other halves (definitely not their better halves at the moment). But it was nigh impossible to ignore the incessant sniping and insults flying between the pair. Just a small extract of which went like this;

“In future Bilbo, I would recommend someone who at least looks like they know how to turn on a shower.”

“Bard how do you cope with five children at home all by yourself?”

“Isn’t that bad for your back at your age?”

“I’m no older than you are.”

“Are you sure? Do you actually own a mirror because you certainly don’t look my age. Or maybe you need glasses in your advanced years.”

“At least I’m not a blonde bottle job in an attempt to look younger.”

“Oh I assure you it’s completely natural, as Bard can vouch, I am a natural blonde. Whereas I see you are becoming a natural grey.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ooo, a little tetchy about it are we? I would be if I were you, you don’t pull it off at all. Bard looks delectable with his steaks of grey, you look like an old man.”

“Opposed to a skinny little bimbo?”

“Well Thorin, some of us are tall enough to reach the healthier foods on the top shelves. Clearly you have to stick to the fatty things on the lower shelves. It’s showing I must say.”

And it went on, and on, and on, and on.

Bilbo looked like he was actually going to murder someone, and Bard was banging his head against the table repeatedly in the hopes it might end this nightmare.

And the nightmare did end eventually, and probably how it was destined to end from the start, but still, Bilbo and Bard were going to have to reschedule sans boyfriends.

“Chirst I feel sorry for that lad of yours. Must be tough for him having the worst father in the world.” And really, as far as the insults of the evening went, it was actually a pretty vague and mild one, but it was still apparently Thranduil’s limit.

Thranduil silently but with a seething expression, for a second Bard thought he was going to flip the table.

“Do not ever talk about my son. About any of my children.” Was all he said before turning and leaving the table.

He was being a little dramatic Bard thought, but he was, understandably, very protective over Legolas. And Bard knew that part of the reason he was leaving would be that sometimes he knew Thranduil worried that he was a bad father – which was completely ridiculous of course – but still, Thorin had got him where he was self-conscious, probably the only thing he was self-conscious about.  

“You okay?” Bard asked, jogging up behind Thranduil catching him where he was putting on his coat.

“Yes.” Thranduil nodded, although he sounded a little lost all of a sudden, Bard hated it and go ready to leave as well but Thranduil stopped him. “Don’t be silly, stay and have dinner with your friend, you hardly get to see him.”

“You sure?” Bard checked,

Bard tried to tell himself that it wasn’t Thorin’s fault he had hit a real weak spot, like an exposed nerve, with Thranduil, and he really didn’t seem like the kind of guy to deliberately and completely upset someone, so Bard tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, Thranduil could just as easily have said something a bit too close to home.

But still, it was difficult. No matter how dramatic Thranduil was, Thorin had hurt him a little. And Thorin didn’t look in the least bit sorry, in fact he looked triumphant.

Bard intended to stick around, try and enjoy the meal with Bilbo, catch up properly as they hadn’t in a while. But then his phone rang.

“What is it babe?” Bard asked, caller id flashing up a smiling picture of Thranduil, all he got in response was slightly hysterical breathing. “Okay, sweetheart can you put Sigrid on the phone for a second?” Bard asked gently, hearing his oldest trying to calm her ada down.

“Da?”

“Sig what happened?”

“Nothing really, there was a slight mishap with the hob and ada threw so much water on it that it may be broken now, but it’s fine no one got hurt.” She told him, which actually explained a whole hell of a lot about Thranduil’s current state.

“Thanks darlin’, put Thran back on for me.” Bard instructed, were he spent the next ten or fifteen minutes talking his fiancée down from a panic attack, getting him to breathe and calm down and promising he would be home soon (this conversation required his full attention on Thranduil, not on trying to drive at the same time).

Eventually, Bard had him calm enough to hang up the phone and start making his way home.

“Bil, I’ve gotta run. Thranduil had a bit of a mishap with the stove and has had a panic attack.” Bard explained quickly and Bilbo nodded in understanding, he knew enough to understand why Bard needed to leave. Thorin did not and apparently couldn’t take a hint.

“How pathetic. No wonder his wife left him.”

Bard’s fist connected with Thorin’s jaw only seconds after the last word had left his mouth. Bard was utterly fuming, holding himself back from hitting him again. Thorin looked to stunned to speak, too busy holding his jaw, it would bruise that was for sure.

“Bard! He didn’t know.” Bilbo scolded, but it sounded pretty reluctant, like he wasn’t sure what side he was supposed to take but that he was definitely cross with everyone.

“Doesn’t bloody well matter.” Bard spat.

“Wha– ” Thorin started but Bard cut him off.

“For future reference. Thran’s wife burned to death in a house fire.” Bard grit out, he could see the apology already forming on Thorin’s lips, but still he continued. “If you _ever_ say anything like that to Thran, I will do a lot worse than punch you. Do you understand me?”

“God Bard I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I would nev– ”

And Bard was fairly sure he was genuinely sorry and wouldn’t have said such a thing had he known, but Bard was still storming straight out of there.

He got in his car and drove straight home and spent the rest of the evening with his family in the blanket fort the kids had built their ada because he was upset eating ice cream and snuggling. And if they all ended up sleeping in a massive puppy pile inside their blanket fort, then what did it matter, they were all happy.

The next day they received apology cupcakes from Bilbo and Thorin, well, from Bilbo but Thorin had at least signed his name. Bard and Thranduil sent back apology muffins, well, from Bard but Thranduil had at least signed his name.

Before the next time the four of them met up, Thranduil and Thorin and been fully briefed on absolute no-go areas as far as their vicious remarks went, and they both avoided them, happily sniping and insulting each other about unimportant things.

If anything, they secretly loved having someone they could insult and be mean to whenever they saw them, Bard reckoned they were both relived to be able to do it, a weird way of letting off steam.

Bard and Bilbo laughed at their ridiculous boyfriends, deciding it was the start of a beautiful frenemy-friendship.

 


	90. Sex and Marriage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I wanted to send you a prompt, hope it's ok, but your Barduil fics give me life. Well, since I read that having sex = marriage for elves, I wanted a story in which Thranduil 'gives himself' to Bard knowing the implications but Bard doesn't, and fears it's just a fling for the elf. In addition, all the elves from Mirkwood start treating Bard like the king's consort, even Legolas (specially Legolas), since it's obvious that they are spending the night together
> 
> ~ I changed the prompt slightly cause I think that if you're going down theh sex=marriage route forr elves then they would've been together a while before thrandy would've done it, so I dont think there was much chance of Bard thinking it was a fling at that point
> 
> Rated: M/E

 

Bard had been with Thranduil for almost three years, and ever since that very first day, Bard had known there was something between them. Whether it was ridiculous or not for a bargeman to want the Elvenking he did not care, for the first time in a very long time, he had gone after what he wanted.

After the battle, when things had calmed down, the elves staying for a while to help with the first stages of rebuilding, Bard and Thranduil had spent a long time together. He supposed that in a way he had been courting the Elvenking, and the smirks and teasing but pleased looks had tipped Bard off that he wasn’t the only one who realised that.

It had been when the elves were preparing to leave that it had become something more official than tempting looks, teasing words and shared wine.

“I am sad to see you go.” Bard had admitted, while walking with Thranduil to his mount at the front of the long procession of elves mow ready to leave.

“I assure you the feeling is mutual.” Thranduil had smiled.

“But you know…I think those trade agreements could still use some work.” Bard had started, grinning a little.

“Agreed, and no doubt we need to bicker over the borders some more.” Thranduil had teased back, working out what he was up to.

“And we barely decided on how much free movement we were going to have between our kingdoms.”

“Terrible, how have we overlooked all this. I am afraid there is only one solution.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, obviously you’ll have to come see me in my realm.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Shame, I was hoping you’d say today.”

Thranduil had laughed and Bard had kissed his breath away and then they had laughed some more, and Bard had been visiting Thranduil in Mirkwood within the week.

They slipped into a new routine as easily as if it had always been the way, even though things couldn’t have been more different. Last time Bard had any sort of routine in his life he had been a poor bargeman under the Master, now he was the King of Dale (which was ridiculous) and was maintaining a romantic relationship with the Elvenking.

Through the first few years of their relationship, there had only been one thing that had worried Bard. And that was simply how long Thranduil intended to keep him around, he never doubted that Thranduil loved him, he knew that to be true. But he could hardly blame the elf if he decided to gradually begin distancing himself from Bard, surely that would be the logical thing to do, better than watching Bard die slowly anyway. That was the only problem with their relationship and an aspect of it that they  _never_  talked about, it could be forever for Bard, but it would be no such thing for Thranduil.

But slowly, as their time together wore on, Bard came to the realisation that Thranduil was never going to leave him, it was written in every caress and every declaration of love. And quite selfishly, he was relieved.

Bard loved him more and more every day, and he made sure to tell him, he couldn’t quite believe that this was his life, that this unfathomably beautiful creature loved  _him_ , was his to love and hold, and just be with, and Bard intended to be with him every day for the rest of his life.

But, despite their tension, and the way Thranduil would rake his eyes up Bard and make him feel like the most delectable thing on the planet, Thranduil had never led their activities past kissing (and it was truly divine to kiss and be kissed by such a person as Thranduil). They kissed long and deep, hard and frantic, lazy and sweet, anything from a peck on the lips to long languid kissing twined together on a sofa or chaise lounge in Thranduil’s rooms.

They slept in the same bed when they were spending time in each other’s kingdoms, they held each other and curled up together and showered one another with sweet caresses, but they never did more, Thranduil never pushed for more, so neither did Bard.

Frankly Bard would have happily gone without sex if it was not something Thranduil wanted to give, he wanted to be with Thranduil, everything else was just extra (highly welcome, enthusiastic and enjoyable extras, but extras nonetheless).

He knew the customs of men and elves were different, and he never pried into what that would potentially mean for his and Thranduil’s private life. After all, he knew that if Thranduil wanted to have sex with him, he would let him know, (which he had). But if he hadn’t, it wouldn’t have mattered, because he still had Thranduil, and that was what truly mattered to him. Thranduil and his children, their family.

So came as a surprise when as they were lying in bed, holding each other and kissing as they always did, Thranduil started something new. Thranduil rolled on top of Bard, knees landing either side of his waist, which really wasn’t that unusual, except that it normally only happened when they were planning on lounging around for hours, not just before they went to sleep, that was the time for lazy kisses normally.

But Bard didn’t worry about it, happy to have Thranduil wherever he wanted to be and kiss him however he wanted to be kissed. So he brought his hands down Thranduil’s sides and squeezed his hips through his thin nightshirt as they continued kissing. Thranduil’s lips were open and encouraging Bard’s tongue to lick its way into his mouth, so they kissed a little deeper for a while, it was only when Bard nibbled on his lower lip that he realised something was different from their usual heavier bouts of kissing.

As he bit lightly on his bottom lip, Thranduil moaned quietly and let his hips roll down and Bard noticed that he was hard, hard and rutting gently against Bard’s hip in a way that was getting Bard’s blood pumping fast as well.

Experimentally, Bard slipped his hands under Thranduil’s nightshirt and ran them over Thranduil’s chest before brushing across one of his hard nipples and startling a little gasp out of Thranduil. For a moment, Bard thought he should stop, but then Thranduil’s hands were on his own night clothes, pulling the shirt swiftly over Bard’s head, and dropping his mouth down to suck at Bard’s collarbone.

Bard stifled a groan as Thranduil sucked, rolling his hips up to meet Thranduil’s and causing their hardnesses to start rubbing against each other through the thin fabric of their night clothes.

“Than?” Bard asked, he needed to check, this was so different already from anything else they had done, and Thranduil looked like he had every intention of taking it further.

“I-I want.” Thranduil panted out, mouth hot on Bard’s neck.

“What do you want? Whatever it is let me give it to you.” Bard breathed, moving his head to kiss at Thranduil’s jaw.

Thranduil didn’t answer with words, instead he took one of Bard’s hands and guided it round him, slipping both their hands inside his sleep leggings and over the lush rump of his ass until Bard’s fingers were brushing over his entrance.

“Are you sure?” Bard asked breathlessly, trying to ignore the way his cock jumped at the very thought.

“Yes. I’ve wanted it for a while, just needed to be sure, and I am, I am so sure this is what I want.” Thranduil had whispered back, voice somehow both nervous and sure.

Bard kissed him fiercely and was further reassured when Thranduil reached over into one of his bedside draws and pulled out a vial of oil, he had been planning this it would seem.

Bard flipped them round and stripped them both of their remaining clothes. He took his time preparing Thranduil, making sure he was ready and already writhing around on Bard’s fingers as he littered his body with kisses and murmured how much he loved him into his ear.

When Bard entered Thranduil, it was like nothing he had ever felt, a connection between them so strong and unique, there was almost something tangible about the very feeling to the point where he was tempted consider that there was some kind of magic at play. But that was probably just him being too sappy for his own good.  

He fucked Thranduil slow and deep, keeping every point of contact that he could, plastering them together. Thranduil’s legs were wrapped around his waist and they rocked together, breath mingling when their kisses became harder to maintain as Bard worked his hips faster, gazes locked together right up until they both came with chocked off cries of each other’s names. Collapsing together in a tangle of limbs and falling to sleep wrapped up in one another.

 

After that, they started having rather a lot of sex, Thranduil seemingly wanting to make up for lost times or something (not that Bard minded, like, at all). And it wasn’t immediate, but gradually, Bard started to notice a few changes with the Woodland realm in general.

Their new (and invigorating) sex life brought a change in their relationship (other than the obvious) but Bard could never quite put his finger on what it was, not for a while anyway, but as time passed he realised something about the elves of Mirkwood, they were treating him differently than they had before.

They had of course always been polite (though whether this was through respect for Bard or because Thranduil could be pretty terrifying was unclear), but really, they had only ever treated him as one would be expected to treat visiting royalty. And that definitely changed.

It was almost like they began treating him like Mirkwood royalty, with the same deference and respect that they treated Thranduil and Legolas with. Bard wasn’t particularly sure how to describe it, probably why it had taken him a little while to really notice it. Things like directing questions to Bard that would previously only have been aimed at Thranduil or Legolas, asking for his permission before doing things despite the fact it was their realm not his, and including him freely in all diplomatic discussions, whether they involved Dale or not. Even Legolas himself had been treating him differently, like his equal, or even more like how he treated his own father, it was highly irregular and the sudden change made no sense to Bard.

They had also begun to call Bard ‘King Consort’, which confused Bard. Of course he knew what it meant, that was not what was confusing, the confusing part was that they had only just begun to use it. Hadn’t he and Thranduil been together for quite some time? Why only begin to use this title now?

After a few months of being called ‘King Consort’ and being treated in this way, Bard decided to finally ask Thranduil what it was, because it was truly baffling him.

“Thran.” He began one night while they were lying in bed together, dozing after some of their more athletic bedroom activities. “Why have your people started calling me ‘King Consort’?”

“Because that is what you are meleth nín.” He responded sleepily, cuddling into Bard’s strong chest.

“But why have they only begun calling me that recently? Their behaviour towards me has changed as well, you must have noticed, you are far too observant not to.” Bard continued, pressing a kiss to his loves golden head.

“You were my love, you held my heart that is true. But only recently has it become an official union.” Thranduil mumbled, as Bard stroked his hair.

“I don’t understand, I didn’t sign anything, there was no ceremony? No announcement?” Bard asked curiously, and Thranduil sighed heavily against him.

“I should have told you before, it was not fair of me, but I am tired and comfy so you must promise not to be angry with me.”  Thranduil murmured sleepily, and now Bard’s curiosity was hitting new levels, what in the world would he be angry about?

“Of course not my heart, I could never be angry with you.” Bard answered firmly, holding Thranduil a little tighter for reassurance.

“The customs of men and elves are very different. When it comes to taking a spouse we do have ceremonies to celebrate, but that is not what forms the official union between the two souls. For us, it is the act of love making that we see as what men call matrimony. For elves, the souls of the two involved are literally bound together, I was not sure it would happen as you are mortal, but it did, I can feel it every moment of every day, a tether straight from my soul to yours.” Thranduil explained, and Bard could hear the smile in his voice just as he could feel it against his skin.

“Is that what I can feel, I had thought I was just too soppy for my own good.” Bard told him, and Thranduil turned his head slightly to press a kiss against Bard’s chest, just over his heart.

“You are too soppy for your own good, but no, that is a real bond you can feel.” Thranduil confirmed, dancing his fingertips over Bard’s heart.

“So when you decided you wanted to start having sex that was us getting elven married?” Bard clarified, smiling up at the ceiling at the thought.

“Yes, I’m sorry, I should have told you at the time.”

“Why didn’t you, you must’ve known I never would have said no.”

“I know, I’m not sure why. I think maybe I was nervous, nervous that the bond wouldn’t form because you are mortal, nervous of everything that the act meant for us. It was easier that you did not know so you weren’t nervous. Then I was not sure how to tell you.” Thranduil explained, and it made sense.

“Well, you’ve told me now.” Bard finished with a smile, not liking how Thranduil seemed a little worried about how he would react, as if Bard would be angry, he was terrible at being angry with Thranduil, and he didn’t see any real reason to be anyway.

Bard kissed the top of his head once more and continued stroking his hair as Thranduil traced absentminded patterns on Bard’s chest, it was not long before they were both asleep, wrapped up in each other the way they always were.  

 

 

“We’ve already done it your way, let’s do it my way as well.” Bard announced a few days later, walking into the study where Thranduil was working.

“I thought we did it your way last night.” He responded, dragging his eyes over Bard and licking his lips rather distractingly (and completely deliberately).

“Don’t be vulgar.” Bard protested, he was a man on a mission and it did not involve sex (not that he would mind if they ended up having sex anyway, but after what he was really there for).

“I thought you liked it when I was vulgar.” Thranduil teased, pulling Bard closer by the loops on his breeches, until he was standing in the vee of his impossibly long legs.

“Yes of course I do but not right now.” Bard disputed just as Thranduil’s hands started roaming around.

“Such a pity I was hoping for something of a repeat performance.” He smirked at Bard biting his lip as he slipped his hands under Bard’s tunic and began sliding against his bare skin, leaving a trail of hot sparks wherever they touched.  

“Thranduil as much as I enjoy where this is going I am actually trying to propose here.”

Thranduil looked up at that hands stilling their exploration, he drew them back and blushed almost shyly (which was ridiculous given the things he didn’t blush at).

“I did not think the laws of men permitted two males to wed?”

“Well, they don’t, but like you keep telling me, I’m the king, I can do what a like.” Bard declared, making Thranduil grin at him, besides, everyone had known about them since day one and nobody had cared, why should they now.

“That you can.” Thranduil replied, words and tone dripping with double entendre, eyes sparkling with mischief and sending Bard’s mind racing into the gutter.

“Shush you I’m trying to propose.” Bard mock-scolded and Thranduil mimed locking his lips closed. “Good, anyway, Thranduil Oropherion, will you do me the honour of becoming my husband?”

“Hmmm.” Thranduil pretended to ponder tapping his lip. “Can I think about it for a while?”

“Of course, so long as you’re not planning on getting any while you think about it.” Bard grinned back cheekily, making Thranduil look up in alarm, as if he ever actually would withhold sex, that would be tantamount to punishing himself too.

“I thought about it and yes, yes I would love to be your husband.” Thranduil jumped up, slinging his arms around Bard’s neck and kissing him before he started to paw at his clothing.

“Patience my love, don’t you know all of that is supposed to wait till the wedding night?” Bard teased, taking Thranduil’s roaming hands and kissing his knuckles in a gentlemanly fashion.

Thranduil looked more alarmed than he had a few moments ago and before Bard could point out that he was joking (honestly it wasn’t like there were any virginities to protect or unwanted pregnancies to be had out of wedlock here) Thranduil was already sweeping hurriedly down the hall.

The next morning Bard woke up to a full scale royal wedding in Dale that Thranduil had literally managed to put together in less than twenty four hours.

Bard took it as a huge compliment to his prowess in the bedroom.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slow updates, but my big bang fic is taking priority atm. I have done six out of it's twelve chapters and we're already at 30,466 words :') but as soon as that is done I shall be back to posting every day I promise :)


	91. Thranduil spys on Bard and realises he isn't the only one with scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 
> 
> Whilst attempting to spy on an otherwise oblivious bather, the Elven King is shocked to realize he is not the only one hiding scars… 
> 
> Rated: M
> 
> Sooo, this is only chapter 91 of this collection, but it is actually my 100th barduil fic! 
> 
> And I did a little vote on my tumbles [(which is here btw anyone who wants is)](http://thrandythefabulous.tumblr.com/) and they voted for a fic to be made out of [this gifset!](http://calmskiesfierynights.tumblr.com/post/108553837435/barduil-au-whilst-attempting-to-spy-on-an)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is here, I have done it and I have tried to make it a particularly good one, but first I’d like to go a little mushy on you all and say something ;)
> 
> So I get a lot of peeps asking me how I write so much so fast and I’m going to clear that up right now by dedicating this fic, hell, this entire collection of fics to you lot on the Barduil trash heap.
> 
> Because cheesy as it sounds, you guys are the reason I can write so much so fast. Every single comment, every single tag, every single kind word and note of encouragement, every time someone cheers me on in the askbox or comes especially to tell me they enjoyed something, every awesome prompt that hits my ask box and every time you guys say one nice thing about me - that is where my motivation comes from.
> 
> So for everyone who asks me to keep on writing barduil until I die? So long as you guys still want it and enjoy it and support me, I will literally never stop, you are all literally the source of my new found creativity and drive.
> 
> So this one is for every single one of you barduil trash bags out there.

 [(gifs from the original gifset)](http://calmskiesfierynights.tumblr.com/post/108553837435/barduil-au-whilst-attempting-to-spy-on-an)

 

Thranduil knew he should not. It was no doubt considered poor form to spy on your unsuspecting guests when you had offered them the hospitality of the royal bathing chamber. Probably even less so when you considered said guest a close friend.

But it was not just any guest, it was _Bard_. The first person to pique his curiosity in more years than he care to admit. If Thranduil had his way, Bard would be far more than just his friend, but it had been so very long since he had attempted such an advance, and he did not wish to lose the Dragonslayer’s friendship with an unwanted advance, that was too precious to him. So Thranduil had no clue as to how to go about charming Bard.

He was fairly sure there was attraction there, mingled into their friendship from the first. But that hardly meant that Bard wished for anything more between them, he may well not want the hassle that came with being with another king, and Thranduil knew that the race of men did not often look kindly upon two males being together (although why exactly Thranduil could not fathom). There were a thousand reasons why Bard might not want anything but friendship, just as there were a thousand reasons why Thranduil should not want more that friendship.

And yet he _wanted_. He wanted Bard’s smile and his laughter, he wanted to be the cause of them. He wanted Bard’s easy countenance and good humour, he wanted his companionship by his side for as long as he could give it, no matter how terrible the end would be for himself. He wanted to wake up next to that handsome face for as long as he was able, he wanted to be a second father to Bard’s children just as much as he was desperate for Legolas to like Bard.

But it was more than this as well. Thranduil _wanted_ Bard, desired him in a way he had not felt for a vast amount of time. He wanted his kisses and his hands and mouth. He wanted everything Bard would give him.

But above all, he just wanted his love.

Thranduil had not felt this level of desire for such a long time he hardly knew how to contain it. So he could not be blamed for being unable to resist when he found the door to the royal bathing rooms enticingly unlocked.

He only wanted one look, Bard need never know he had been there at all, he would slip in and back out without Bard ever knowing he was there, elves had always been stealthy creatures he reasoned to himself, even as he was easing the door open, willing it not to creak.

He stayed where he knew Bard would not see him, and his breath caught in his throat as he looked round to see Bard stripping his shirt up over his head. He was truly exquisite, Thranduil knew his mouth was slightly open as his throat went dry just looking.

 _What do we have here?_ Thranduil thought to himself, biting his lip as Bard’s muscles flexed with his movements, the light glistening off him tantalisingly, highlighting ever contour, every strong and toned part of him, Thranduil could barely contain his desire to whimper just as the sight, he had never seen someone so attractive. 

Bard’s dark hair hung touloused around his face and as the shirt fell to the floor Thranduil noticed the way his trousers were already open at the lacings, a teasing trail of dark hair disappearing down. He swallowed thickly, knowing he should leave, but he stood no chance as Bard began almost sensually and suspiciously slowly sliding his trousers down his strong and long legs. He was not wearing underclothes.

Thranduil had to bit hard on his lip at the sight of Bard naked in front of him. He was so similar to Thranduil and yet so different, different in all the ways mortality caused, things that Thranduil had never found attractive and tempting before Bard. Like the way his body glistened with sweat after a hard day, and the slightly tanned tone of his skin, and the hair on his legs and arms and at his base. Thranduil had wanted to feel his facial hair against his skin since they first met, that had been how he had immediately known that Bard was different, at least for him.

Thranduil had never seen a chest so clearly defined, so strong looking, elves having more strength but in a far more deceptive way, they had muscle of course but it never looked so, so _chiselled_. Bard looked like someone had intricately carved every one of his abdominals. The muscles in his shoulders, arms and legs defined in much the same way, it was obscene. Thranduil couldn’t help the way he licked his lips as his eyes moved to his cock, nor could he avoid realising that it did not look completely soft. The idea that Bard planned to pleasure himself while bathing had Thranduil biting down hard on his lip.

Thranduil had hardly had his fill of drinking in the sight of Bard – he would probably never feel he had had his fill where Bard was concerned – when Bard moved to get into the hot bath, turning his back to him as he did. And what Thranduil saw there startled him so that he had to cover his mouth to actively stop himself from gasping out in shock.

Littered across Bard’s back were long scars, raised lines cutting across his skin, they ran all over his back. Apparently he was not the only one hiding scars.

He really should leave now, but he was lost in his own mind. He could not fathom how Bard had got such scarring, the lines to similar to each other to have been caught randomly in battle, yet they looked the same age, like they were all inflicted at the same time.

“I know you are there.” Came Bard’s voice, shocking Thranduil out of his reverie and making him freeze like a naughty child being caught. “I may not be an elf, but I was spied on for a good portion of my life. I tend to know when I am being watched.”

“Yet you still chose to disrobe entirely and climb into the bath?”

“If the Elvenking wishes to see me unclothed I certainly do not mind, although I would rather he didn’t do it by spying. But I admit I would rather you had never had to see my back.” Bard added, a note of shame colouring his voice, and that would not do at all.

“How?” Thranduil asked, wanting to know how he had got the scars.

“I have a horrible habit of not being able to hold my tongue, once the Master chose to punish that. If it weren’t for the general outcry at the brutality, he probably would have done it again.”

“He had you whipped!?” Thranduil seethed, wishing that that despicable Master were still alive so that he might return the favour.

“Aye. I was lucky, I could have easily died of an infection, but I managed not to catch one, like I said, I was lucky.”

“Lucky! You should never have been whipped in the first place!” Thranduil protested angrily (though not at Bard).

“You do not even know what I did.” Bard smiled.

“It is of no consequence, nothing could have deserved such brutality.”

“My friend I fear you are biased, but no, I did not deserve it.” Bard agreed with a wistful smile, he had been foolish for sure, but it should not have incurred such a punishment. “The Master was making it impossibly hard for me to get on with my day to day life. I had got off a particularly difficult day on the barge, the weather had been rough, I had lost two of the barrels and nearly been knocked off the boat and I was chilled to the bone and had no idea what I was going to put on the table for dinner that evening.

“So when the Master and Alfrid stopped me and started harassing me with threats about keeping my job and taunting my ability to provide for my children, but the final straw was the comment about my late wife, it hadn’t even been long since it had happened and they – well, they said some things and I snapped. I punched Alfrid so hard some of his teeth came out and made some pretty cutting and threatening remarks of my own to the Master, and before I knew it I was being tied to a post and whipped.”

“If that Master were still alive– ” Thranduil broke off, teeth grinding in his fury, that someone had _dared_ do such a thing.

“I don’t know, it may have been a blessing in disguise. After that there was such an outrage it almost looked like the people were going to overthrow the Master, so he trod carefully, especially around me, for a very long time after that.”

Thranduil wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, Bard shouldn’t have needed to endure a whipping to make his life easier, but he doubted his anger at a dead man would help anything. It was a cruel reality of Bard’s past, and Thranduil knew all too well how anger did not help make the past any easier.

“Although I admit that I regret that you saw the scars I bear from it.”

“Why?” Thranduil asked, perplexed by this, was Bard ashamed? Of what?

“Vanity I confess. A creature as fair as you could not want someone as scarred as I. They are harsh, ugly things that have no place around you.”

Thranduil heard Bard’s a sharp intake of breath as he moved behind him and trailed his fingers over the Dragonslayer’s strong shoulders. He knelt quietly by the bath behind Bard and continued sweeping his fingers delicately over the muscles before dipping them lower to trace one slender finger over the highest scar as he dropped a kiss to the juncture of Bard’s neck.

“Thran? What’re you doing?” Bard asked, doing his best to cut off a moan as Thranduil trailed his tongue teasingly over the back of his shoulders, dropping feathery kisses as he went, all the while his fingers were dancing lightly along his scars.

“Never think yourself unworthy of me. No matter what scars you bear.” Thranduil stated firmly as he nudged Bard forwards so that his lips might meet the top of the first scar, hands stroking Bard’s sides.

“Because I am a Dragonslayer?” Bard inquired, knowing how that had changed his status, but Thranduil knew he would want him even if he was still a bargeman, he only wished he might have met him sooner, garnered some more precious time for them. 

“No, because you are you.” Thranduil replied easily, slipping his hands to run over Bard’s chiselled stomach and tugging him back, resting his cheek on his shoulder and kissing his neck again.

“Hmmm.” Bard sighed, resting a hand over one of Thranduil’s on his stomach and squeezing it, encouraging him to continue his movements. “But you will still forgive me if they make me self-conscious in the face of such a flawless beauty as you.”

“Bard, you are not the only one who bears scars.” Thranduil admitted, surprising himself, he made such a point of concealing them.

“Though I admit I do not have the advantage of having seen you bare – something which I sincerely hope you will rectify soon – I can hardly imagine anything getting close enough to hurt you, I have seen you fight, you are incredible.”

“I promise you they are there, though I go to great pains to conceal them.”

“Why?” Bard asked, his fingers reaching back and trailing sweetly over Thranduil’s smooth cheek, but it was only smooth because Thranduil forced it to appear that way. 

“Vanity. Someone as handsome as you could never want me if I did not, they are ugly.” Thranduil smiled at mirroring Bard’s answer, but it was tinged with sadness, his scars ravaged his face and left half. They had blinded him in one eye for Valar sake, he could never be considered beautiful with them. “But also, I would not have anyone consider me weak.”

“I cannot imagine you as weak, anymore than I could consider you anything other than beautiful, though the word hardly does you justice.”

“You would not say that if you could see them.”

“Can I?” Bard asked so gently that Thranduil knew he could not say no, even if Bard’s reaction was to flinch away from him, he could not refuse Bard’s soft lilting tone.

He rose from the floor and came around to where Bard could see him properly before dropping to his knees again, wanting to stay on eye level and not be so above him, it would not be right. Hand’s pooled in his lap and eyes closed, not wanting to see Bard as he recoiled in horror as he was bound to do, Thranduil slowly let the glamour drop.

He knew what Bard must be seeing, smooth fair skin fading away to reveal red mottled marks, his cheek still held gaping holes, he was lucky the side of his face was standing at all, webbed tendons visible and still raw pink after all these years. The glamour receding fully, revealing the extent of the damage up, covering the left side of his face and the skin on his neck turning a raw pink as well, Bard couldn’t even see the rest of the scarring down his side, hidden by his clothes. It was ugly.

He expected Bard to back away in horror as much as he could in the confines of the tub when he heard a shocked gasp and water moving, but instead, he felt rough but gentle fingers tilt his chin up, and before he realise what was happening, there were soft lips pressing against his own.

How he had dreamt of those lips, kissing him freely as now for the first time they were, brushing tenderly over Thranduil’s and coaxing a sigh from him as he relaxed. Bard’s other hand found it’s way to Thranduil’s hair, holding the back of his head softly as they kissed, Thranduil didn’t even care that he was getting his hair wet, he was far too lost in Bard and his lips and just how much the gesture meant.

Finally, after long, slow drags of their lips and just the faintest, tantalising taste to Bard’s tongue against his lips, Bard pulled back, placing a final kiss against the corner of his mouth, so careful of the gruesome scars, but kissing them anyway.  

“What happened?” Bard asked softly, ever so gently ghosting his hand and fingers over his scars.

“You are not the only one who has face a Dragon, although I admit to being somewhat less successful than you.”

“Hmmm, maybe you should keep a Dragonslayer around, just in case.” Bard replied, a smile in his voice and Thranduil was so relived he thought he could cry, a feeling which was only made more likely by the way Bard was pressing very careful kisses on his scar.

“I fear I will never be letting you go.”

“Are you ever going to open your eyes again?” Bard chuckled, tone laced with amusement.

Thranduil slowly opened his eyes, met with the infectious sight of Bard smiling at him. Bard’s gaze flickered over to his left eye and he cupped Thranduil’s face gently, running a thumb carefully just under his left eye.

“Can you see out of it?” Bard asked and Thranduil shook his head slightly, not wanting to dislodge Bard’s hands.

“You’ve always kept me on your left.” Bard smiled at him softly, catching the significance.

“I have always trusted you.” Thranduil responded allowing himself to be draw into another smiling kiss from Bard.

They kissed for a little while, both enjoying this knew development in their relationship, relishing in learning each other’s mouths, Bard being so gentle with his every caress.

“You do not have to be so gentle, I will not break.” Thranduil said as they broke one kiss to catch air, nipping on Bard’s bottom lip to put his point across.

“I do not want to hurt you.”

“They have not hurt in a very long time, they do not cause me more pain than yours cause you.”

“Well that is a relief to know.” Bard grinned before diving back in and claiming Thranduil’s lips in a far more fierce kiss, biting at his lips and dipping his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth, wet hands buried in Thranduil’s hair, pulling little moans from him.

“I can cover them up, if you want.” Thranduil offered, still insecure about how he looked, they were no pleasant, even if Bard seemed not to mind.

“The only thing I want, if for you to get rid of all this.” Bard grinned, pushing at Thranduil’s intricate robes. “And join me in here.”

“Won’t that be a little crampt?” Thranduil pointed out with a raised eyebrow (not that he had any intention of _not_ joining him now the offer was there).

“I think I know where you’d fit perfectly actually.” Bard replied cheekily, giving him a rakish look and opening his knees invitingly, it actually made Thranduil blush. “Nay! I have not managed to make the bold Elvenking blush.” He teased and Thranduil huffed, which only made Bard let out more of that beautiful laughter.

“May I?” Bard asked, wet hands on the clasps of his gowns.

“Please do.” Thranduil replied, feeling more than a little breathless as Bard started ease his clothes from him.

It had been a long time since he was last the intimate with someone, not just physically but emotionally, the last time he had been so open and felt so safe had been with his wife, and that thought was equal parts terrifying and exhilarating.

Thranduil laughed when Bard’s seductive stripping of him was foiled by his inability to fathom one of the clasps, waging a mini war with it, and when Thranduil tried to help, his hands were batted away, determination written all over Bard’s face.

“I plan to learn exactly how to undress you, no matter how complicated your clothes. My guess is that it will be useful information for later.” He cheeked, dropping a kiss to Thranduil’s newly exposed neck just as he managed to release the clasp, baring Thranduil’s collarbones.

“How many layers do you wear exactly?” Bard laughed as he got started on the next, each one revealing more of Thranduil’s soft snowy skin.

“I lose count, but if it’s too much of a challenge for you...” Thranduil smirked back, even as Bard pushed another layer from his shoulders.

“On the contrary, I feel very much like I am unwrapping an enticing gift, I find I rather like the feeling.” Bard replied, voice lower than usual as he pulled Thranduil’s tunic over his head, finally leaving him bare chested.

Thranduil was well aware that there was even more scarring visible now, he had contemplated hiding it, but only for a moment. He intended to be naked with Bard more than just this once, and after everything that had gone between them this night, why worry about hiding a few more scars. And indeed, the only acknowledgement Bard gave to them was to pepper kisses as far down his side as he could reach from his position in the bath while his hands found the fastenings on his leggings.

Thranduil leggings held much more similarities to those of men, though his were far richer, made from a fine silver-grey velvet, but the similarities meant that Bard was able to deftly unlace them far more easily than he had done with the rest of his garments.

Before he stripped them off of Thranduil, Bard nudged him to stand, letting his hands run down Thranduil’s long legs teasingly (and causing a certain part of Thranduil to become even more interested in the proceedings than it was before) and helping him out of his high boots.

As Bard finally stripped him of his leggings, easily drawing down Thranduil’s undergarments with them, he was finally naked before him. Thranduil resisted the urge to blush, standing so very bare and on display for Bard, and the way Bard was drinking him in, eyes roaming over him hungrily, Thranduil had never felt so desirable in his life. And he had utterly forgotten that his scars were still completely visible.

Thranduil would have flushed deep red at standing before Bard not only naked by hard as well, were it not for the fact that he could clearly see Bard’s own cock stood to full attention beneath the water. At the sight Thranduil went from blushy to bold rather quickly.

“Are you sure there is room for me in there?” Thranduil teased, eyeing Bard appreciatively.

“Oh I am certain there is room for you right here.” Bard grinned, gesturing to the space in the vee of his legs before leaning forward and placing a tempting kiss to Thranduil’s hip, complete with a little nip.

Thranduil had intended to waste no time before climbing in and settling himself between Bard’s strong thighs, but right now Bard was kissing a trail along Thranduil’s hip and he was very interested in the direction he seemed to be headed, so it could hardly be considered wasted time.

Bard’s lips were just centimetres from the base of Thranduil’s cock, and his eyes flicked up to Thranduil with a mischievous little glint sparkling there, making Thranduil bite his lip. He couldn’t help but moan as Bard left a path of open mouthed kisses up his hardness, eyes barely leaving Thranduil’s own. But then, with one lavish kiss to the tip, causing Thranduil’s hips to jerk, Bard moved back, looping an arm around Thranduil’s waist and caught him completely off guard, pulling him down into the tub in a tangle of limbs.

Thranduil landed with a splash and Bard lit up with laughter and the indignant expression he shot him.

“I was rather enjoyed where that was going.” Thranduil griped, trying really really hard not to laugh, but Bard’s happy chuckles were completely infectious to him and he could not keep the smile off his face, so instead he plastered himself over Bard’s front, lying on top of him, chest to chest in the bath.

“Well, I promise to finish the job later.” Bard promised as his laugher died down, landing an affectionate kiss to the tip of Thranduil’s nose.

“What makes you think I am prepared to wait that long?” Thranduil questioned in a teasing tone.

Before Bard could answer Thranduil let his hips roll down as he caught Bard’s lips in a kiss. Their moans were muffled by their kisses as their hips moved together, hands roaming freely over each other’s bodies, dragging over old scars and leaving marks of their own as their mouths begand to wander too.

Thranduil could feel himself getting closer to the edge just from rocking together, and if the way Bard’s rhythm was begging to speed up and falter, he was getting close as well.

“Shit, Thran.” Bard gasped with one particularly hard rut of his hips, causing his hands to shoot up and bury themselves in Thranduil’s hair, tugging on it in a way that left Thranduil whimpering and _so close._

“Oh, Bard, I’m– ” Thranduil panted, making Bard hold him tighter, and just when he felt himself right on the edge of release, there was a loud shriek from the corner of the room.

“Ahhh! Oh by the Valar this isn’t happening!” Legolas cried from the corner of the room, throwing his arms over his face.

Thranduil couldn’t help his squeak of embarrassment, quickly hiding his face in Bard’s neck.

“Legolas what are you doing in here!” He grouched, bemoaning his rapidly disappearing finish and erection entirely.

“ _The door was open_.” Legolas hissed. “So I mistakenly thought THAT THE BATHING CHAMBER WAS EMPTY!” He shouted, and Thranduil couldn’t see what was happening, but from Bard's sniggering and the various crashing sounds, Legolas was trying to navigate his way out of the room without opening his eyes. “By Eru I’m going to go pour some Ungoliant venom into my eyes now.” Legolas muttered. “And next time lock the door!” He yelled before there was a bang as he slammed the door shut behind him as he left.  

When Legolas was gone Thranduil groaned into Bard’s shoulder.

“So leaving doors unlocked apparently has both perks and drawbacks.” Bard deadpanned.

Thranduil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, Bard successfully bringing him out of his embarrassment, and it was okay, Bard did finish the job later in Thranduil’s chambers, the door firmly locked behind them.

 

Legolas took to knocking very loudly on every single door he ever encountered.

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ngl I think Legolas has wound up the most scarred one of the lot after that)
> 
> I HOPE YOU LIKED IT! <3
> 
> P.S. I will do a little vote on here for you A03 guys about what you want for chapter 100 soon ;)


	92. Bard subconsciously starts playing love songs to a beautiful stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Bard plays guitar and sings on weeknights at a tiny little coffee shop. One day, Thranduil walks in and is captivated by this gorgeous man with that beautiful voice. Bard notices him and begins to sing love songs directed solely at Thranduil.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“You were great da!” Tilda shouted happily as she skipped across the room and Bard scooped her up easily into a hug.

“Yeah?” He smiled as she landed a big kiss onto his cheek.

“Uh-hu!” She reassured as Sigrid and Bain appeared crashing in for hugs as well.

“You really were pretty good da.” Sigrid agreed.

“Well that is high praise from you.” Bard ginned at his eldest, she just rolled her eyes and picked up Bard’s guitar as Tilda showed exactly no signs of getting down.

“Well it was better than last week anyway, that was a train wreck.” Bain laughed, making Bard huff as they left the coffee shop with a wave to the employees still working there.

“Last week was _not_ my fault.” Bard protested as they started wandering down the street headed home.

“Oh really, was it the guitar’s fault then? Or maybe the mic?” Bain teased, dodging out the way when Bard went to knock him up-side the head.

“I lost my voice.” Bard muttered, which was technically true, but it only made Sigrid snort.

“Yeah, because you were too busy staring at that blonde.”

“I was not!”

“Da you were practically drooling.”

“He was very pretty.” Tilda piped up helpfully.

 And ‘pretty’ was a serious understatement.

For the most part, Bard worked as a mechanic at the local garage, fixing all manner of cars that came into the garage. It was a good job, paid well enough to feed and clothe his three kids so he wasn’t complaining. He was really quite good at it as well, which made it much easier, and to top it off, the customers seemed to really like him (although he wasn’t sure if the majority of their female clientele liked him or liked his appearance).

But as much as he liked his job, it wasn’t what he loved. What he loved was music, but unfortunately it was pretty hard to support a family by busking and playing in a tiny little coffee shop, so he had to stop for a while. He never stopped completely of course, always playing around the house whenever he got the chance, and winding his kids up by playing stupid little tunes and singing terribly even when he could actually sing perfectly well and knew actual songs – like any self-respecting dad would do.

It had been a couple of years ago, on his birthday, when his three brilliant children had given him his present. They’d piled into his room far too early in the morning before they all went to school and work, making him open his pile of cards before they presented him with a little card from them. When he opened it there was a little note inside telling him that he’d been ‘hired’ to play three evenings a week down at their favourite little coffee shop. They pay was a free hot drink and he only ever needed to give the owner a quick heads up if he wasn’t going to be able to make it. It was perfect.

So he played three evenings a week down at the little coffee shop, rarely missing a single day, he loved being able to play in front of someone other than his children (supportive as they were). Monday and Wednesday his neighbour Tauriel was happy to poke her head in on his kids and make sure they were fine, Sigrid and Bain didn’t need a babysitter anymore, and they were more than capable and responsible enough to look after Tilda for a couple of hours (although usually Tauriel ended up getting pulled in to whatever game Tilda was playing and staying anyway).

But on Fridays his kids always came down to watch him, even though he insisted that they really didn’t have to (even though he absolutely loved having them there). But really they seemed to genuinely want to be, all three of them missed it occasionally for parties or sleepovers or various sports competitions and alike, but in general, they were always there, at their little table in the corner, silently cheering him on.

However, they were first and foremost his children, which meant that when Bard did something slightly embarrassing where they could see, he could be sure to get teased for it for a good long while. Which was apparently going to be the case with what had happened last week.  

It had been going well, but then Bard was midway through his sixth song and the most beautiful person he had ever seen walked through the doors to the coffee shop and he kind of, stopped playing…

He hadn’t even noticed what he was doing, his world had kind of narrowed down like tunnel vision focusing on that beautiful man making some obscenely complicated coffee order.

As far as Bard was concerned, his reaction was completely justifiable. This man was, god, he looked like he’d been pulled straight out of one of Bard’s fantasies. He was tall but there was nothing remotely lanky about him, he moved with an effortless grace and he had this pair of legs that just went _on_ and were wrapped up in some sinfully fitted trousers.

His skin was like ivory, the kind of colour that Bard just knew would look delicious with a love bite sucked into it. His face was both sharp and soft at the same time, a strong jaw and high cheekbones, his pouty red mouth set off by snowy skin, piercing blue eyes and dark eyebrows.

Then there was that hair, silver blonde hair that couldn’t possibly be a natural colour and yet it clearly was. It fell down past his shoulders like a silken curtain, not a single strand out of place despite the fact that it was really quite windy out.

An elegant hand wrapped easily around his cardboard coffee cup and Bard couldn’t help the thoughts that flickered across his mind about those hands and as he thanked the barista Bard heard a rich, velvety voice that Bard wanted to hear again and again.  

“Er, da?” He had one of his kids call, successfully pulling him out of his daze and immediately making him flush in embarrassment.

He quickly sunk back into the song with an apology but pretty much everyone in the room was giggling at him, well everyone except the beautiful blond who was now looking at him with a mischievous glint in his eye and interest written all over his flawless face which was not helping Bard’s concentration at all.

The man had watched Bard through about seven more songs, with each one Bard gained a little more of his usual composure and confindednce, before the man seemed to remember the time (and the fact that he had brought a to-go cup suggested that he had been in a hurry) and glided out of the shop as gracefully as he had entered it, but not before giving Bard a cheeky wink and making him falter the chords he was playing, which made him smirk as he left.

Bard had no idea what he was called and no idea where to find him or how to get in touch with him. So in other words the beautiful man had walked in and out of his life within two hours. Honestly if it weren’t from the reassuring teasing from his children Bard would be half sure he’d imagined him.

So Bard was pretty surprised when on Monday, over a week after he had first seen him, he was setting up (the very small amount of setting up he did) and he spotted a pair of sparking blue eyes drinking him in from one of the corner tables.

Bard blushed, although why he could not fathom, maybe it was the appreciative way the other man was looking at him. And a few moments later when he straightened up from plugging in his mic, he turned and realised that the man had definitely been looking at his arse while he was bent over, Bard raised an eyebrow at him and got a wink in return.

This could be a lot of fun.

Now, a case could definitely be made claiming that Bard was showing off a little during that show (because he absolutely was) but he just couldn’t help himself, and he also ended up playing what was probably his best set yet so it was a win win really. Especially as before he left Percy, the owner, handed him a napkin off the table the man had been sat on with ‘ _See you Wednesday, Thranduil’_ written on it in sloping handwriting.

 _Thranduil_ , so that was his name, he’d never heard anyone with it before and it felt utterly fitting for the man, unique much like the man himself.

Thranduil was indeed there on Wednesday, and Friday (which did not go unnoticed by his children) and then Monday again, and before Bard knew it, it became more common for Thranduil to be there than for him not to be.

Thranduil would watch him play from his seat in the corner, his expression caught somewhere between hungry and captivated and Bard found that he could hardly look away from those twinkling eyes while he played.

Bard started to find himself singing to Thranduil rather exclusively, luckily it didn’t seem to be annoying any of the other people listening to him, the fact that he was dangerously close to serenading him in a room full of people.

They didn’t even know each other for goodness sake, only that wasn’t quite true, Bard knew how he liked it coffee, that he must have some kind of high powered job, that he preferred to wear his hair loose, he was even beginning to be able to read his expressions. And Thranduil by now would know what his favourite kinds of music were, that he liked to wear his hair half pulled back, that he had three children, and that on Wednesdays he was always ten minutes late.

Bard doesn’t know exactly when it started, it started so subconsciously that it would be nigh impossible to put his finger on exactly when, but he started to play new songs. Ones that he hadn’t wanted to play for a very long time, with no one to think about while he played them, but that now were creeping into his set of songs.

Suddenly Bard realised one Monday that he had started playing loves songs again, and looking at Thranduil while he did so. He realised it because for the first time in a while, Thranduil wasn’t actually there, Bard had shrugged it off, despite his disappointment, knowing that Thranduil must have a life outside these little performances. But when he went to play one of the songs that had snuck into his set a couple of weeks ago, he found he had no drive to play it when his eyes couldn’t find Thranduil.

Love songs had found their way into his repertoire and he had been playing them not just for, but because of Thranduil.    

And yet they hadn’t yet had a single conversation, not one.

As soon as he realised he felt so silly, playing love songs to someone he hadn’t even spoken to, and yet he could remember entire conversations that had passed between them without a single word.

Bard would ask him how his day was with a look, and on the occasion that Thranduil indicated with a somewhat downcast look that his day had not been fun, Bard had adjusted his songs for the sole purpose of cheering him up. And the playful music led to playful conversations that were never voiced.

On another day Thranduil’s eyes flickered down questioningly to a smudge of grease on his arm and Bard had replied with a smile that he was a mechanic without a single word passing his lips. And on every day Thranduil would very successfully flirt with him with his face alone, Bard hoped that his responding looks were just as successful (evidence would indicate that they were).

And the fact that love songs had snuck their way into his usual set spoke volumes and the fact that he had no interest in playing them when Thranduil wasn’t there said even more.

Christ he really needed to talk to the guy, get him on a date and romance him properly (not that Bard was entirely sure how to romance anyone beyond singing love songs, which he was already doing).

But Bard was a big fat chicken (Tilda’s words not his own)., he built himself up every time he played to talk to Thranduil aft wards, to say something incredibly smooth and get him on a date, and every single time he chickened out.

What he did do was make it even more ridiculously obvious that he was singing Thranduil love songs in the hope that the other man would put him out of his misery and do the asking out first.

So for the next two weeks Bard played Thranduil love songs, watching him with a soft look the whole time he played one, making sure Thranduil knew it was just for him, which, if the small and intimate smile that he returned was any indicator, he did.

It was a Friday the next time Thranduil wasn’t there, and Bard fell back into his old set, no desire to play any love songs if the object of his affection wasn’t elegantly lounging at his table in the corner. His kids cheered him on anyway and he did enjoy it because he loved playing, but he just liked playing for Thranduil even more, or he just liked Thranduil, it was a bit blurry at this point.

“Don’t worry da, I’m sure he’s just busy.” Sigrid smiled, helping him take apart the mic and he was tempted to deny it, but really what was the point, so instead he just smiled back at his daughter.

Just as he was about to head out with his kids, guitar slung behind him, there was a clatter as the door was shoved open and Thranduil rushed in (somehow making rushing elegant), Bard just kind of stared at him.

“What wait, you’ve got another hour yet.” Thranduil protested when he saw the empty coffee shop (apart from the workers closing up) and Bard ready to leave.

“Um no? I finish at half nine like always.” Bard replied, a little confused.

“Oh for goodness sake I forgot about the time difference.” Thranduil griped, immediately changing the time on his watch.

“You didn’t notice you were running off the wrong time?” Bard asked, amusement lacing his tone, how did someone go through the day an hour off base?

“Well, I did only get off the plane an hour or so, I should’ve been back in time but it was delayed.”

“Wait, you got off a plane and came straight here to see me play?” Bard inquired, confused by the implication and for the first time, he saw Thranduil blush.

“Uh, yes, I very much enjoy watching you play.” Thranduil replied softly and a little quietly. “Sometimes I feel like you are playing just for me.” He admitted, blushing again at his admission.

“Most of the time I am playing just for you.” Bard replied, blushing a little himself and smiling as Thranduil’s gaze snapped to his, a question in his eyes. “I could play for you now? If you wanted? I mean not here, they’re closing but maybe out in the park? It’s a clear night and I like watching the stars out there.”

“Me too.” Thranduil smiled, biting his lip. “I would like that very much.” They smiled at each other, caught in one another’s eyes and certainly not for the first time. They were pulled out of the bubble they were caught in when Sigrid piped up.

“Okay well, I think that’s our queue to leave. Da I will text you when we get home and everyone will be in bed on time. See you later.” Sigrid grinned, corralling her siblings out the door before Bard could even protest.

“But Sig! I want to meet the pretty man.” He heard Tilda protest, making Thranduil next to him chuckle.

“Don’t worry Til, I’m sure you’re going to have plenty of opportunities.” Bain assured her and then before Bard could say a thing there were trundling down the street, Tilda’s hands caught one in her brothers and one in her sisters.   

“Sorry about them.” Bard said, feeling like a nervous teen now that they were pretty much alone.

“Never apologise for them, they are delightful.” Thranduil smiled back. “Now, about this private performance.” Thranduil continued, a slight leer in his eyes as he looked at Bard.

“Patience.” Bard winked back. “We need to relocate before we’re kicked out for closing.”

“I don’t know, I think I’ve been patient long enough.” Thranduil replied, tone teasing as he raked his eyes up Bard.

Bard rolled his eyes and grinned at Thranduil, catching his hand and tugging him out the coffee shop and towards the park. Thranduil’s hand was soft and smooth in his own rougher one, Bard found he rather liked the way Thranduil’s hand looked clasped in his own.

Bard almost expected it to be awkward, playing and singing to Thranduil out in the dimly lit park, but somehow it wasn’t. Maybe it was the way Thranduil smiled at him, or the way after he’d finished playing, Thranduil pillowed his head in Bard’s lap and started tell him all about various constellations while Bard was finally able to run his hand though that silken hair.  

Whatever it was, there was just something so natural about them together, like they had known each other their whole lives. Able to spend time together without exchanging a word and yet come out of it knowing each other explicitly better than they had previously.

Before the night was out Bard had gotten himself a kiss. And before the year was out he had gotten himself a husband.

 

 

A reader has spoilt me with this adorable piece of art ^.^ THANK YOOOOU! <3

 

 


	93. Cat smuggling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> I work at the animal shelter and you always come in to pet the cats when you’re sad au
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

Bard walked past the doorway and then promptly did a double take and backed up to look back through the doorway. Turns out his brain hadn’t been playing tricks on him and there was in fact a very beautiful man sat in there with seven cats crawling on him.

“Um, you okay?” Bard asked because a) even though he seemed to be enjoying it, it looked like he was under attack from a legion of cats, and b) Bard couldn’t help but notice his eyes were a little red, and he was assuming that it wasn’t because he’s allergic to cats.

“Uh.” The man jumped a little, obviously not having noticed Bard standing there. “Oh, yes, well no. But the cats help.” He answered, and Bard at least thinks he means that being piled on by loads of cats helps to cheer him up.

“Right.” Bard responded a little dumbly, too busy taking in this seriously pretty man with the long silvery hair and the ivory skin and high cheekbones and the pretty harsh burn scar down his left side.

“If I can’t be here I can– ” The man started in his rich voice, apparently having taken Bard’s confused staring as a sign in shouldn’t be there rather than the _holy shit how are you real_ stare that it was.

“No no, you don’t have to leave. The cats don’t get enough contact anyway, stay as long as you need.” He cut in, he wasn’t sure if it was exactly policy to let him, but frankly Bard had never given a shit about ‘policy’.

“Thank you.” He gave a small smile, gaze running over Bard (that was a-okay with Bard) before flicking back the cat currently trying to climb up his chest.

“Bard.” He blurted and felt like a moron instantly – three children and sixteen years ago and he actually had game, but he clearly didn’t any more, great. “Uh, my name, it’s Bard.” He explained awkwardly, but the man just smiled at him like he was amusing.

“Thranduil.” He returned with a soft smile that Bard may have got a little lost in a realised more than a little belatedly that he was kind of staring, much to Thranduil’s amusement it would seem – he was caught between feeling embarrassed or feeling glad he’d cheered him up a little.

“Right. I’m going to go. Do stuff, useful things. But if you need anything I’ll be around.” Bard offered, cringing almost permanently at the stream of awkward that was falling out of his mouth, Thranduil just smirked at him as he caught himself staring again before finally making his bloody feet move.

Eventually while Bard was manning the desk in the entrance, Thranduil left, giving him a little smile and a wave as he did and holy shit his legs just went on forever what the hell.

Five days later Bard was contemplating exactly how inappropriate it would be to attempt to find Thranduil on facebook (honestly how many ‘Thranduils’ could there possibly be in the world) when there was a swish of long spun silk hair coming through the door.

“Hey, you okay?” Bard asked a little alarmed by just how blue he looked (aand he was not referring to his stunning eye colour.

“Yeah sorry. Do you mind?” He answered, indicating his head in the general direction of the cats and biting his lip (stop it brain you can’t think that about someone who is clearly upset).

“You don’t even need to ask.” Bard smiled kindly and Thranduil let out a small sigh of relief before disappearing round to where the cats were.

When Bard was relived from front desk duty his feet carried him round to where he knew Thranduil was without a conscious thought from his brain. He plonked himself down on the floor with Thranduil and picked up a cat to pet.

He didn’t say anything, just sat with Thranduil, hoping he was somehow making him feel better from the easy and quiet company. It was an hour before Thranduil spoke.

“Do they pay you to sit on your arse all day?” Thranduil teased, grinning at him with a tabby named Fluffy in his arms.

“No, they pay me to look after the animals. Luckily I also look after damsels in distress, but I do that bit for free.” Bard grinned back as Mr Snugglesworth nudged at his hand (apparently he wasn’t doing a good enough job of petting him).

“Am I a damsel now?” Thranduil asked, clearly only pretending to be affronted by the title.

“Nah, you’re more of a prince who’s having a bad day. No, actually you seem more like a king.” Bard winked and that made Thranduil let out a peal of musical laughter that Bard hoped with all his heart he would get a chance to hear again.

“I’m afraid I think the only royalty in this room are the cats.” Thranduil laughed as Tiggrrr (yes, you have to growl the last part) literally climbed on his shoulder.

“Yeah, and don’t they know it.” Bard grumbled affectionately as he removed Princess Whiskers from trampling on his head, which was also making Thranduil laugh.

(Tilda names most the cats, lay off)

“Hey, Bard, thanks, I– well, just thanks.” Thranduil said sincerely after a bit of a pause.

“Anytime.” Bard smiled, and that was exactly what it became, anytime, anytime Thranduil was a little sad, he came to the shelter to pet the cats and if he could, Bard would join him.

On average, Thranduil would appear once or twice a fortnight and gracefully fold himself down onto the floor to play with the cats. Most of the time he had just had a stressful day and wanted to unwind, but sometimes he was a little blue.

One time, Bard caught him asleep with almost ten cats all piled or squished up around him which was equal parts freakin’ adorable and really sad because Thranduil look strung out and exhausted and Bard hadn’t had a chance to try and cheer him up (although he had managed to tuck a blanket around him and a pillow under his head that he later returned with a shy smile that Bard wanted to kiss off his beautiful face).

“You know you could adopt a cat?” Bard suggested one day, even though he really didn’t want Thranduil’s visits to end, maybe it would force him to finally get up the courage to ask him out, or at least for his phone number.

“How on earth do you suggest I chose between them? No, it is all of them or none of them and I fear my son would kill me if I came home with ten cats.” Thranduil grinned and Bard couldn’t help but return it, even though he was pretty sure Thranduil would feel better more often if he had a cat, they seemed to be a soothing influence on him (and he on the cats incidentally, maybe they should hire him as the cat-whisperer).

He discovered all sorts about Thranduil, he worked in the family owned business that he didn’t particularly want but had been his father’s life so he felt obligated to continue it, he had a fifteen year old son named Legolas who he loved more than anything else in the world but he never liked him to see him sad.  His wife had died in a fire when his son was very little, Bard assumed that was where he had gotten the scars but he never asked directly, Bard knew that Thranduil would share the information if and when he ever felt ready, he wasn’t about to push for it.

He found out that his favourite kind of food was French, but that if left alone he would just sit and eat junk food three meals a day. And that he took meticulous care of his appearance, he blushed at first when Bard called him pretty, now he would just smirk and throw back a flirtatious comment of his own, but it never went further than that, even if they could both sense that they were riding on the edge of something just waiting to fall off.

He learnt the exact colour of his eyes, and how to read his facial expressions and that he preferred to leave his hair loose but sometimes wore it in a braid and if it was in a messy half pony-tail then it had been a particularly trying day for him and Bard should probably just let all the cats out to pile on him. The cats were all excessively fond of Thranduil, but then, he was very feline too Bard supposed, maybe they sensed a kindred spirit.

He knew that by now the word that would probably be apt for how he felt would be ‘smitten’. In fact, Tilda liked to tease him with a little rhyme she concocted ‘da’s all smitten with the man who likes kittens’ she would sing-song around him while Sigrid and Bain snickered.

And Bard found himself very conflicted, because every time he saw him, Bard lit up a little because he enjoyed spending time and talking to him so much, but then the reason Thranduil was there at all was because he was stressed or a little sad and that _sucked_.

Nine times out of ten, Bard and the cats could successfully cheer him up, but there were days that Bard couldn’t spare the time to sit with him, and Thranduil left only a little less melancholy than when he had come in, Bard hated those days, he just wanted to bundle Thranduil up in his arms and hold onto him until he was ready to start feeling better, for as long as he needed.

One day though, it wasn’t Thranduil who came crashing through the doors (Thranduil rarely did anything that wasn’t completely gracefully anyway), but it was most definitely his son. The blue eyes, build and facial features would’ve been enough, but the long blond hair with elegant little braids was just a dead giveaway.

“Bar?.” Legolas’ worried face stated, apparently knowing exactly who he was despite the lack of introduction.

“Um, Legolas I presume?” Bard replied, a little less sure, the kid sighed in relief but still looked pretty upset, and Bard really didn’t like it when kids (or just Oropherion’s) looked upset. “What’s wrong?” He asked, concern lacing through his tone.

“It’s my ada, he’s sad and I hate it when he’s sad and I know that he likes coming here when he’s a bit down, so, can you help me? I don’t know what to do.” Legolas practically pleaded, watery blue eyes looking at Bard and Jesus Christ this kid must get his own way all the time because who in their right mind would ever be able to say no to that kid (not that it made a difference here, Bard was already getting his coat).

“Wait here a sec.” Bard instructed before disappearing round to the kennels.

“Percy.” Bard called. “Tilda’s not very well, I need to go pick her up.” Bard lied, and he probably didn’t need to lie, but he didn’t want to put his friend in an awkward position should the bosses come asking.

“Right you are Bard, I hope little one is okay.” Percy called from the kennels. “Me and Hilda can hold down the fort don’t you worry.”

Bard ducked back out of the kennels and round to the front desk where a slightly anxious Legolas was waiting, no doubt keen to get back to his father, but Bard had a genius plan.  

“Come with me.” He half whispered and they disappeared around to the cats where Bard proceeded to get Princess Whiskers and Mr Snugglesworth and tucked one of them under his coat while handing the other to Legolas.

“Quick stuff Snugglesworth into your coat and lets get out of here.”

“Sungglesworth.” Legolas deadpanned with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes my six year old named him, hopefully he won’t scratch you for dissing his name, come on.” Bard urged and Legolas awkwardly tucked him into his coat and it was totally obvious but slightly better than just carrying them out. “Right come one, and don’t drop the cat.”

“As if I would.” Legolas replied indignantly, making Bard grin at how much that reminded him of his father.

Stealthily (or as stealthily as Bard ever managed, Legolas on the other hand was pretty stealthy) they smuggled the cats out of the shelter and into Bard’s car, miraculously without a hitch and started to drive.

“You’re going to have to give me directions.” Bard instructed glancing over at Legolas, and realising how ridiculous they most both look in this beaten up jeep with the cats inside their coats poking their heads out the top but not even bothering to try and actually climb out the coats (which was good considering Bard was trying to drive).

“How did you know I was Bard?” Bard asked, it wasn’t like they were organised enough to wear nametags or anything like that.

“Please, my ada has been mooning over you long enough that I could’ve probably painted you likeness by now without even seeing you.”

“Really?” Bard asked in disbelief, a stupid smile pasted over his face.

“Oh my god you’re as bad as he is.” Legolas groaned, but Bard just kept on smiling stupidly at the road.

Legolas directed him into the posh side of town and hopped out of the car – careful to hold onto the cat still poking out the top of his coat – to run over and punch in the passcode to the gate for them to even be able to get up the drive.

“Ada!” Legolas called as they entered the large house (although mansion may well be a better word). “I’m home I brought you a present.” Legolas grinned, scampering up the grand staircase and beckoning Bard to follow.

“That’s very sweet of you Legolas, but I think– Bard?” Thranduil broke off when Bard entered with Legolas, wearing a big goofy grin. “What’re you? Legolas did you– wait, _why are there cats poking out the top of your coats?_ ” Thranduil asked incredulously as the cats chose that opportunity to poke their heads back up out the coats.

The moment they saw Thranduil the cats stopped being so docile and clawed their way out of the coats (which was not comfortable for Bard or Legolas) and they made a beeline for where Thranduil was sat on the covers of his grand bed and immediately as the cats crawled onto his lap, some of the melancholy slipped off his face.

“Wait. Did you smuggle Princess Whiskers and Mr Snugglesworth out of the shelter in your coats?” Thranduil questioned, realisation dawning on him, and bursting out in a huge bout of laughter when Bard winked at him to confirm that yes, that was exactly what they had done.

Bard started snickering too, knowing what a ridiculous sight they probably were smuggling cats, and Legolas couldn’t help his giggles either, but after a little while, Legolas slipped out and left them alone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Bard asked, slipping onto the bed beside Thranduil, they both knew why Legolas had gone and got him.

“It’s silly.” Thranduil sighed, petting one cat with each hand as they nuzzled into him.

“It’s clearly not silly.” Bard replied, catching Thranduil’s hand and squeezing it, which pissed off Princess Whiskers but comforted Thranduil, Whiskers just moved around to Bard’s free hand to get petted instead.

“Most of the time I’m just stressed with work. A lot of people rely on me and that can get overwhelming, especially when you cannot show weakness in front of any of them. But when I’m sad, I, I have nightmares about the fire, which is ridiculous because I’m a grown man, they scare me and they exhaust me and leave me sleep deprived and remind me of things I do not wish to be reminded of.” Thranduil admitted and Bard’s heart hurt for him.

He hated that he had to go through that ever, let alone of a semi regular basis. He didn’t hesitate before he wrapped an arm around Thranduil and pulled him against his chest, Thranduil tensed only for a second before he relaxed against him.

“It is not ridiculous. You went through something terrible and you survived, you’re so strong Thran.” Bard told him with complete sincerity, holding him tight against his chest, and as he started stroking his hand soothingly through his long silver hair, as slowly, bit by bit, all the tension ebbed from Thranduil’s frame.

“Thank you Bard.” Thranduil sighed out, head pillowed on Bard’s strong chest.

“You don’t need to thank me.” Bard smiled, both the cats had migrated round to tuck in and on Thranduil and curl up to sleep on him. “Although I really do think you should adopt a cat if they help, not that I want your visits to stop of course, I um, I really like seeing you, but I just mean for days like this, they could cheer you up.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Thranduil murmured. “But I admit that lately I haven’t just been going to see the cats.”

Bard smiled at the admission, placing one hand under Thranduil’s chin and gently guiding him up for a soft kiss, finally feeling those red lips against his own, Thranduil deepening the kiss from a light brush of lips, tongue tracing along the seam of Bard’s lips and smiles playing on both their faces.

Somewhere along the way they ended up lying next to each other kissing languidly, both loath to stop kissing now that they had finally started, with two cats sandwiched between them, reminding them both at frequent intervals that they had been smuggled out of an animal shelter and were not getting the worshipping they expected for cooperating. Eventually Mr Snugglesworth actually came round and sat on their faces, they laughed and finally broke apart, smiling at each other like idiots.

 

The next day Thranduil ended up the proud owner of Mr Snugglesworth and Princess Whiskers, because apparently, the shelter didn’t look too kindly on cat smuggling so it was pretend Thranduil had adopted them and the paper work had gone missing, or lose his job. Thranduil didn’t seem to mind, in fact when Bard rang him in hushed whispers from the bathroom at work to tell him he had just become the proud father to two cats, he had laughed pretty hard and said he had had no intention of giving them back anyway and thus they became the most spoilt cats Bard had ever seen.

Thranduil still came to visit the cats at the shelter, although to be honest, somewhere along the way that became visiting his boyfriend and distracting him while he was working, Bard didn’t mind, it was hard to mind about anything at all when Thranduil’s tongue was in his mouth.

 

 


	94. Bard knocks Thranduil out with a stray football

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I was trying to read in the park and your stray football fucking knocked me unconscious
> 
> Rated: T

 

Thranduil was minding his own business, sitting in the park on his usual bench, reading as he always was on a Sunday afternoon.

The reason this was his preferred spot was because the trees provided dappled sunlight that meant Thranduil was never at risk of burning his fair skin but he still got the warmth of the afternoon sun, it was located in a particularly luscious patch of grass and there was plenty of room on the bench for him to bring a few pillows with him for comfort.

And it had absolutely nothing to do with the perfect view of a certain man who came to play football in the park at the same time every Sunday. Absolutely nothing.

The perfect view of the field was completely coincidental. Completely. And if he found himself staring sometimes at the strong brunette, then it was only because he ‘happened’ to be looking at him when he got lost in thought.

Okay that was a load of crap.

He was staring and he was staring a lot (although ogling might be a better word), to the point where he was fairly sure he’d accidently learnt the guy’s name (a happy accident).

Fairly sure because while his kids, they had to be his kids, called him da and tackle hugged him (and okay apparently he was an adorable father as well which wasn’t helping Thranduil’s infatuation one bit), his friends tended to shout “Bard!” just before he got tackled – and Thranduil was reasonably sure he got tackled so much because he wasn’t the only one staring, although they never caught each other. The reason he was reasonably sure was because he’d been running a little experiment and whenever he sat a certain calculated way or undid a few buttons, Bard definitely got tackled more.

Thranduil didn’t get half as much reading done as he used to because he was way too busy ogling Bard.

Not that he blamed himself really, the guy was seriously hot.

He had this messy, wavy brown hair that brushed his shoulders and was sometimes only half pulled back and sometimes sat in a bun. He had a little beard that Thranduil kind of desperately wanted to feel on the insides of his thighs. His arms and legs were strong and on a few very memorable days when he’d taken his shirt off due to the heat Thranduil had (dropped his latte) and discovered that he was absolutely ripped. Thranduil was pretty sure the guy would actually be able to hold him up against a wall while he fucked him and wasn’t _that_ a theory he’d very much like to test.

So there he sat with his book open but decidedly not being read as he enjoyed the…scenery (rather shirtless and _flexing_ scenery).

 

In fact he was enjoying it so much when Bard caught his eye for the first time ever that he failed to notice that the ball Bard tripped over and kicked wildly was hurtling straight towards his head.

 

 

“Ugh.” Thranduil groaned as he came around, his head was absolutely thumping and he really didn’t fancy opening his eyes right now.

Luckily he’d suffered through enough self-inflicted hangovers that he could deal with a thumping head (no matter how much of a drama queen he might be about it).

“What happened?” Thranduil whined, but as he gently shifted around he realised his head wasn’t on the ground on or the bench, but in someone’s lap.

“God I am so sorry.” Came a lilting voice, a lilting voice that Thranduil had got very adept at tuning into over the past few months and that was a serious incentive to open his eyes.

As he carefully blinked his eyes open he was greeted by the more than welcome sight of Bard leaning over him, the angle making him look kind of upside-down. Which meant that it was in fact Bard’s lap that his head was pillowed in which made him want to move even less than before.

“Bard? How did I get down here?” Thranduil asked, voice a little dazed as the fuzzy image of Bard came properly into focus.

“I may have hit you with a football…” Bard trailed off sheepishly.

“Oh my god, seriously?” Thranduil grumbled, but then, it had led to their first conversation and his head pillowed in a rather comfy lap, so he wasn’t actually that angry.

“I’m so sorry, literally anything I can do just say. _I am so sorry_.”

“Take me out on a date and I’ll forgive you.”

“You want to go out on a date with me?” Bard asked, blushing almost shyly.

“Do you own a mirror?” Thranduil responded incredulously.

“Do you? I never thought you’d say yes to someone like me.”

“Bard, rest assured I’d say yes to pretty much anything you suggested at this point.” Thranduil replied simply, and that got a distinct mischievous twinkle in Bard’s eye and a smirk playing on his lips before it was replaced with slight confusion.

“Wait, how do you know my name?”

“I’ve been paying attention, my name’s Thranduil.”  Thranduil smirked, making Bard blush again.

At the blush Thranduil rolled his eyes and brought a hand up to tangle in Bard’s hair before tugged him down into an upside-down kiss. After all, if it went badly then he could blame the concussion he probably had. 

As it was it definitely didn’t go badly, in fact despite the weird angle there was a tongue in his mouth before long and Thranduil moaned slightly when Bard nibbled on his bottom lip.

“Well okay, I think that’s our cue to leave.” Announced one of Bard’s friends, Thranduil hadn’t even noticed them (not that that was a surprise) and they all dispersed, telling Bard they’d see him next week.

“Can you sit up?” Bard asked tentatively, and Thranduil was tempted to say no if only for the way Bard’s hands were stroking through his hair. But then his strong hands were then on Thranduil’s arms and back and that was good too so Thranduil allowed Bard to help him sit up.

Thranduil held a hand over the bump on his head, as it objected to the movement, grimacing as he leant back against the bench, Bard with a worried expression on his face.

“One sec, I need to get you some ice for that.” Bard stated, jogging over to pick up his cool bag of water and an only semi-thawed ice pack.

He kneeled in front of Thranduil, knees either side of his legs and practically in Thranduil’s lap (which was all kinds of a-okay with Thranduil), and ever so gently pressed the ice pack against the bump on his head.

“This okay?” Bard asked, biting on his lip nervously, Thranduil couldn’t tell if he was nervous about the fact Thranduil had a small lump under his hair or because he had just crawled into his lap.

“This is all kinds of okay.” Thranduil smirked playfully, bringing his hands up to Bard’s hips and making Bard bite his lip again, only in a distinctly more coy fashion, before he leant in and kissed Thranduil tentatively, and when Thranduil kissed back a lot less tentatively, Bard got with the programme.

“How’s your head?” Bard asked a little breathlessly when he pulled away from their pretty hot kiss (although Thranduil realised they probably shouldn’t get to hot and heavy out here, at least not without relocating behind that tree…)

“Hurt’s like a bitch.” Thranduil teased (he’d had hangovers far worse without the healing power of Bard in his lap) “I’d noticed you weren’t great at football but _how_ did you manage to kick it that far afield?”

“I was distracted.” Bard mumbled.

“By?” Thranduil pushed playfully, fairly certain he knew what had been distracting Bard so much.

“It’s not my fault! You were biting your lip and your trousers are really tight today and your legs were open and you were looking at me and…it’s not my fault.” Bard protested weakly, a blush riding on his cheeks.

“Sounds to me like it might be. If you hadn’t been running around all shirtless and sweaty I might not have been staring, or subconsciously biting my lip and opening my legs.” Thranduil pointed out, letting his hands move and trail over Bard’s sinfully defined abs.

“Would you rather I wore a shirt then?” Bard teased, that spark of mischief back in his eyes, Thranduil got the distinct feeling they were going to have an _awful_ lot of fun.

“Absolutely not!” Thranduil replied in horror, much to Bard’s amusement if the grin was anything to go by. “What I want is for you to take me out on a date and then fuck me hard against a wall like I have wanted you to for ages. _And then_ you should take more on some more dates and possibly never stop.”

“Don’t I get taken on any dates?” Bard teased, tossing the mostly melted ice-pack aside and stroking his fingers through Thranduil’s silken hair.

“You most certainly do. I’ll spoil you rotten.” Thranduil smirked and Bard grinned, leaning in for another kiss that turned into just tongue and teeth and hot breath and hips rolling together a little too pointedly for being sat out in the open.

“I think we should relocate.” Bard gasped as Thranduil rolled his hips up to meet him. “Where’s the nearest wall.”

“Hmmm?”

“You said something about fucking you against a wall, I see no need to wait.” Bard grinned and his hands were doing wonderful things in Thranduil’s hair. “I’ll take you on a date after, I promise.”

And really, when was Thranduil ever going to protest to a suggestion like that?

So they started dating and started having sex (not strictly in that order but Bard really did take him on a date as soon as Thranduil’s legs felt like they could hold him up again).

Thranduil’s favourite game when he went to watch Bard play in the park (not even bothering to pretend to read anymore) became seeing exactly what he had to do to distract him, he considered it a win when Bard stomped over to him and kissed him roughly, bribing him with all sorts of naughty things if he would just _quit biting his lip, stop innocently licking chocolate off his fingers and close his damn legs_.

Thranduil rarely listened and they usually ended up making out in the park like teenagers, besides, Bard always did the things he’d tried to bribe him with later anyway.


	95. Single dad feats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Could you write something about Thranduil admiring the single dad feats, which Bard has mastered, such a cooking, sewing, etc, because being king he never had to do them? 
> 
> Rated: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off I apologise to you all for the absence of my fics lately, I’m actually writing just as much as ever, just my big bang has gotten pretty long and has required my full attention, and given that it’s also heading into exams season I’m a bit busy ;)

 

Thranduil watched in a bit of a daze as Bard whizzed around the small house in Dale – small because he was stoically refusing anything even remotely resembling a palace until Dale was at least back on its feet (and even then Thranduil would bet that the most he would accept would be a large house).

He and Bard had become…something, Thranduil wasn’t quite sure what to call it as this point. He had never even considered that he would fall again after his wife, but most evidence pointed to the fact that he was indeed falling quite spectacularly for his friend.

It had all started before the battle, and it had continued quite successfully ever since. It had been both slow and fast, gentle and harsh, soft and stark. 

Thranduil had stayed in Dale for almost two months making sure Bard’s people weren’t just going to perish in the coming winter anyway. He and Thranduil had been spending most days together, he had pretended they had business to see to, but really he was just finding excuses to spend time together.

But he had been a little lost, never having expected to feel anything even remotely like this again, and he had no idea if Bard was developing the same feelings or how to ascertain if he was. But just as he had been about to mount his horse and leave Dale, Bard had just laughed and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Don’t be a stranger.” Bard had smiled when he released Thranduil’s robes, smoothing them down, registering Thranduil’s dazed expression, laughing again and planting another kiss on his cheek.

“Never.” Thranduil had finally responded breathily, and he had been back in Dale before two months were out.

 

Since then Bard had visited Mirkwood and Thranduil has come to Dale a few times, given that Bard was the one with three still young children and Legolas wasn’t exactly and elfling anymore it made sense that Thranduil came to Bard more.

Although Thranduil couldn’t help but wonder how Bard would feel about bringing his children with him to Mirkwood, because sat at Bard’s small table in the little house in Dale, Thranduil found he wanted to.

He wanted to be with Bard. Sat there watching him bustling around the house it hit Thranduil hard, he wanted to be with Bard.

But it was more than that, he wanted to be a part of this family.

They hadn’t progressed beyond the little kisses, but they were given so freely, Thranduil wondered if Bard was just worried about elven customs and whether they were particularly physical creatures. Thranduil most definitely did want to get physical with Bard, but he was so caught up in the small kisses and sweet touches and tender gestures that he was fine just being them.

Thranduil had never had to learn to do anything by himself, even before his wife died they had had help at every turn, the perks of being royal. He never had to raise Legolas by himself, well, he raised him by himself, he would hardly be parted from his little leaf after his wife passed. But he never had to cook or clean or fix clothes or repair leaks in the roof or scrape for pennies to feed his family.

Bard however, did all of that.

Thranduil watched in awe as Bard cooked dinner – a dinner which smelled divine despite the fact that it was essentially made from scraps, Bard it seems had learnt to make the most of what he had a long time ago.

But Bard wasn’t just cooking a delicious smelling dinner, he was also cleaning up, and not just after himself in the kitchen, he was sweeping up around the house and tossing things into the cupboards and cabinets, and folding up clothes and ducking into bedrooms (presumably to put the clothes away) and Thranduil could swear there was also a needle and thread on the armchair that looked halfway through doing a pretty piece of patchwork on one of Sigrid’s dresses.

All the while Bard was holding a perfectly coherent and focused conversation with him in between doing all of these chores.

The meal was, as predicted from the smell, utterly delicious. They sat around the table, Thranduil too Bard’s left, Tilda next to him, Bain opposite, and Sigrid on the other end of the little table, and they all just chatted away. They told Bard about their days, what they did and where they went and all the exciting stories that happy children seem to collect just in a day.

When Thranduil asked how they had been doing since he last saw them they burst into excited chatter and filled him in on everything he’d missed. “Sigrid’s being courted” “Shut up Bain no I’m not.” “I think she likes him back” “Tilda you too or I won’t take you to the market tomorrow” Bard laughed loudly as Sigrid glared at her siblings and Thranduil found himself laughing with him, which ended with Bard grinning at him and Thranduil getting more than a little lost in the warmth of his eyes.

“What about you Bard? How’s being a king treating you.”

“I’m not a king, not like you are. You can take the bargeman off of the barge.” He grinned back, always failing to see his own worth whenever it came to his ability and right to rule.

“No you’re right, you’re a Dragonslayer, you earned your right to rule. I just had it handed to me.” Thranduil pointed out, enjoying the blush that spread across Bard’s cheeks at the praise.

“You are a great Elvenking, you were brought up to rule and know how. I just took a lucky shot.” Bard replied, playing himself down again.

“Hush Bard, you are an excellent king without the advantage of the upbringing I had. And we both know luck had naught to do with your slaying of Smaug.” Thranduil disputed, causing Bard to flush at the praise again and share a small, intimate smile with Thranduil.

“Yeah I think I had something to do with it, not luck.” Bain stated, breaking their little moment and looking a tad indignant, it made Bard chuckle.

“Well of course, the next king of Dale will also be a Dragonslayer.” Thranduil said, because he was right, it had been very much a joint effort from what he had heard.

“Not sure I want to be king. Seems like a lot of work.” Bain replied thoughtfully, no doubt thinking about how Bard raced around all day, but then Bard was terrible at delegating, Thranduil was pretty sure they were going to have to improve on that before Bard worked himself into an early grave (which Thranduil was stoically not thinking about at all).

“Does that mean I can be queen?!” Tilda piped up, excitement etched across her face.

“Um excuse you I am the oldest.” Sigrid pointed out, jabbing her fork in Tilda’s direction.

“Well do you wanna be queen?” Tilda asked.

“Well, no, but I’d like to at least be acknowledged as an option.” Sigrid answered before swiping some of Bain’s potatoes when he wasn’t looking, she went red when she realised Thranduil had caught her, but he just winked at her conspiratorially and she grinned.

They felt like a family, and Thranduil couldn’t keep the ridiculous smile off his face. Bard noticed his simple and complete happiness in that moment and pressed a light kiss to his smooth cheek, beard rough and welcome against it, and Thranduil’s smile widened impossibly further.

The conversation descended into a discussion about which one of them would make the best king or queen of Dale, demanding final decision from Bard and Thranduil who both got glares thrown at them but Tilda when they said they’d have to ask again when they were older instead of making a real decision (as if they ever would). Thranduil was half surprised they didn’t have potatoes thrown at them, but then, he guessed Bard’s children had very much been brought up not to waste any food.

Before Thranduil knew it, they had chatted easily right into the evening and little Tilda was yawning and Bain was saying something about being tired from helping work out over the crops all day and even Sigrid was talking about taking her book and heading off to bed.

Bard told Tilda stories every night and Thranduil was fine to wait downstairs for Bard to get back, but when she started tugging on his hand and telling him to come too, he wasn’t sure who was smiling wider, himself or Bard.

Bard really did tell the best bedtime stories. His soft lilting voice narrated tales about far off places and strange creatures and impossible deeds and he even did all the voices (much to Tilda’s glee).

It didn’t take very long for Tilda to fall asleep, but when she had mumbled ‘night da, night ada’ he had frozen and felt as though his heart was going to swell right out of his chest.

Bard smiled and his and they went back downstairs, settling down on the worn but comfy sofa and slowly drinking a goblet of wine, as had somehow become their custom. They sat facing each other on the sofa, hands tangled along the backrest as they spoke and shared small smiles and traded soft kisses and really they’re weren’t just something to each other, without even noticing they had become everything to each other.

Eventually Thranduil sighed, placing his long empty wine goblet on the low table.

“I should go.” He said, distracted by the way Bard was stroking a hand through his hair, they were sat so close he wasn’t even having to stretch for it.

“You should stay.” Bard replied, leaning in and kissing Thranduil.

It wasn’t like their other kisses, it was deep and passionate and so filled with love that Thranduil melted into it immediately. His lips opened easily as Bard’s tongue teased along the seam of his lips and he nibbled on Thranduil’s red lower lip, Thranduil moaned quietly into the kiss moving further into Bard’s space and he smiled against Thranduil’s mouth.

Bard took Thranduil’s hand and tugged him up the rickety staircase towards his bedroom.

And they didn’t talk about it, they didn’t need to. It was simple, they were a family.

 

 

 


	96. Bard suffers from some drunken memory loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> What about a one night stand where, before Thranduil wakes up, Bard slips out because he thinks Thranduil doesn't return his feelings and then Thranduil confronts him?
> 
> Rated: T/M

 

“Shit.” Bard muttered to himself as he woke up groggy and hung over and _naked_.

And with exactly the wrong number of surviving memories about the night before.

Thranduil had pulled out the dorwinion, which wasn’t that much of a rarity, it was the only thing that could get elves drunk, and Thranduil was fond of a good buzz in the evenings. However, they hadn’t exactly stopped at a good buzz.

(In fact Bard _vividly_ remembered the phrase ‘don’t stop’ being shouted _a lot_ ).

For Valar sake Thranduil was only supposed to be here for some trade negotiations not to end up naked and spread out and panting out obscenities with his elegant hands clawing desperately at Bard’s back.

He had probably ruined their friendship with his terrible self-control.

No. Actually, he’d probably ruined their friendship by shouting out something along the lines of ‘fuck I love you so much’ as he came and then murmuring it over and over again into Thranduil’s sweaty skin until they fell asleep.

They’d been too drunk and sated to worry or care at the time.

Maybe Thranduil wouldn’t remember and the cat wasn’t completely out of the proverbial bag.

Although he’d still remember the sex, there was some pretty damming evidence littering his neck and chest and if Bard’s memory wasn’t just torturing him further then on his ass as well.

Bard was 110% sure this didn’t happen to most people and he was also 110% sure that you were not supposed to sleep with completely pissed visiting royalty ~~that you may or may not be completely in love~~ with no matter how drunk you were as well.

This was definitely not good for his health.

Bard slipped out of the large bed making desperately sure he didn’t wake the sleeping Elvenking, which wasn’t easy with the way that beautiful blonde head was pillowed on his chest and those impossibly long legs were tangled with his own and _Eru_ he remembered how they had felt wrapped around his waist and neither of them were wearing any clothes and Thranduil was shifting in his sleep as Bard moved and rubbing against him.

This was some new form of torture.

By some miracle Bard managed to remove himself from the bed and Thranduil without actually waking him up (which wasn’t all that surprising considering the thorough work out Bard had given him last night and the fact that Thranduil was essentially a lazy cat at times).

The room as an utter wreck. Clothes were strewn all over the room (how did Thranduil’s boot even get up there!?), the dresser had had almost everything knocked off of it as had the bedside tables, there was a goblet of dorwinion knocked over and soaked into the floor from where Thranduil had knocked it out of his hand and landed in his lap, and frankly, the bed looked more than a little worse for wear.

And Bard couldn’t find his damn shirt.

He was planning on looking for it, but then Thranduil started stirring and Bard was a massive chicken who totally didn’t squeak and dart out of the room before Thranduil actually did wake up.

(He totally did).

So right now Bard was dashing across the courtyard to his own rooms praying to every single deity in existence that no one saw him and wondered why he had forgone a shirt that morning, and why he was leaving the guest rooms the Elvenking was staying in at half five in the morning.

Why the people of Dale had decided he was fit to be their king he would never understand.

Bard did spare a thought to wonder what exactly he had done to deserve this. It was bad enough being completely, hopelessly and unrequitedly in love with his best friend, but now, _now_ , not only did he still have to deal with that, but he also may very well have ruined their friendship either through inappropriate sex or the drunken and devastatingly true confession of love.

And to top it all of the image of what Thranduil looked like when he completely lost himself under Bard would be forever engraved in his mind.

He couldn’t even remember how they had ended up fucking like rabbits well into the night. The first thing he could recall was Thranduil getting an absolutely wolfish look in his eye and then suddenly having a lapful of him, he could remember zero context about what exactly had made him do that and after that were plenty of graphic but still fragmented memories of what they had got up afterwards.

Bard reached the safety of his house and quickly found himself a shirt before sitting at the kitchen table, making himself a truly disgusting drink that he didn’t know if he was hoping would wipe his memory or completely restore it and tried not to think about the possible consequences of screwing the Elvenking.

He failed.

Bard groaned and let his head hit the table with a thunk, despairing at his life and his uncanny ability to get himself into shit situations, usually by opening his stupid mouth when he should be keeping it shut (at that thought he was hit by an image of Thranduil with _his_ mouth wide open for Bard last night and Bard thunked his head on the table again with a pathetic whimper).

Because of his track record with being unable to keep his mouth shut when he should, Bard was more than ready to believe that last night had been entirely his fault.

On a political level (because Bard had been made the sodding king and had to think about things on a bloody political level now) if Thranduil took offence at what had happened last night then it could in theory absolutely destroy their relationship with the elves. And that was something that was keeping their little city going until they got back on their feet, and they were a long way from not needing the elves’ kindness to survive. Fuck

On a physical level Bard was probably never going to experience anything like he did last night again while he lived because _wow_ Thranduil was flexible. But more importantly, even if Thranduil didn’t remember exactly what had happened there was going to be some pretty clear evidence all over his body, and that was another thing he could very well take offence to because they hadn’t exactly been gentle last night and Bard had no idea what elven customs about sex actually even were. Double fuck.

And On an emotional level, this was probably going to destroy Bard. Even if by some absolute miracle and all the Valar was smiling on him and Thranduil didn’t regret the wild sex completely, there was nothing like a one-sided confession of love to put a damper on a friendship. So Bard would lose his personal friend even if he didn’t lose his political one, he would be left with memories of possibly the best night of his life and the knowledge that he had screwed it up with his stubborn feelings for the stubborn elf. Triple Fuck.

Basically, Bard was fucked. And not in the good way Thranduil had been last night.

He seriously considered hitting the bottle and drowning his sorrows, but he figured that probably wouldn’t be the best idea given that he had a city to run and an elf to avoid.

Bard was so mortified. He couldn’t believe he had actually told Thranduil how he felt. If he had just not done that they could probably find a way to laugh about their wild night of drunken sex and write it off as one of those funny things that happened once (much as that would kill Bard). But that wasn’t so easy with a love confession hanging between them.

There was a chance that Thranduil wouldn’t remember Bard’s confession and they would be able to do that anyway, but knowing Bard’s luck there was precisely no chance of that.

Bard lifted his head slightly just to smack it back down on the table again.

Why, _why_ , couldn’t he have kept his mouth shut and carried on his life happily pining after his friend? He had resolved himself to the fact that there was no way on arda that someone as beautiful and regal and elegant and beautiful Thranduil was ever going to return his feelings and Bard had resigned himself to that. And whilst he wasn’t thrilled about it, he had found a way to cope and still keep Thranduil’s friendship.

He really didn’t want to lose Thranduil’s friendship. He was just so unique, so cold to most but impossibly warm to a select few, and Bard and his children had somehow found themselves in the latter bracket.

The first time he had seen Thranduil with his children, playing a funny little game of their own invention with them like a regular dad instead of an ancient Elvenking, had been the moment Bard had realised he didn’t just have a little crush on his friend.

Bard lifted and dropped his again. He had completely ruined everything.

He couldn’t even run away because of the whole king issue.

He was so fucked.

He was quite enjoying thumping his head on the table repeatedly when and unmistakable deep melodic voice spoke up.

“When you’re quite done attempting to knock yourself out, I think we have some things to talk about.” Came Thranduil’s dry tone and Bard may have practically shrieked and jumped out of his skin when he spoke because the sneaky elven bastard had slipped in completely silently.

Either that or Bard just hadn’t heard him over the sound of his own hopelessness.

“Um.” Bard responded intelligently, but to be fair, he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say and he had also made his head ache ten times worse by bashing it against a table repeatedly, which on reflection, had been pretty stupid.

Stupid seemed to be his theme for the day.

He felt like a trapped bunny rabbit, which was not a sensation he had ever experience before but he could say without a doubt that he did not like it.

“Why did you leave?” Thranduil demanded, arms crossed over his broad chest and cutting straight to the point as usual.

Only it wasn’t exactly what Bard had expected him to say.

“Uh.” Bard tried again, ever eloquent with his words.

“Bard.” Thranduil sighed, loosening his arms and fixing him with an imploring look. “Why did you leave? I did not like waking up alone.”

“Uh, because we had some pretty inappropriate sex last night?” Bard said slowly, why wasn’t Thranduil angrier? Or angry at all for that matter? If anything he seemed confused.

Although not nearly as bloody confused as Bard was getting.

“Do you regret it?” Thranduil asked simply.

“No!” Bard responded quickly before he could think better of it. To be fair, it was almost impossible to regret sex that good or for him to lie to Thranduil.

“Well then, why did you leave?”

“Please don’t make me say it.” Bard pleaded, really not wanting to remind Thranduil if he had actually forgotten, although he didn’t look like he was any worse for wear this morning. Bard would have to try better next time (not that there was ever going to be a net time).

“Say what? Bard I’m just confused, I don’t understand why you left.” Thranduil tried again, fixing Bard with a strikingly open and genuinely perplexed expression.

“Because I told you that I love you?”

“Yes?”

“And that is probably going to somewhat ruin our friendship?”

“Bard you’re not making any sense.”

“You don’t think it will be a little awkward spending time with me knowing that I am arse over tit in love with you?”

“Honestly Bard you’re acting like you don’t even remember.”

“Well, I mean, I remember most of it, but it’s kind of jumbled and fragmented…”

“So you actually don’t remember.” Thranduil huffed, looking really rather put out but Bard had no idea what he was talking about because clearly he was missing a rather key piece of his memory.

“To be fair memory loss is a pretty standard side effect of getting drunk.” Bard protested weakly.

“Mortals are so strange.” Thranduil muttered.

“Can you please tell me what I’ve forgotten?” Bard asked, wondering what other humiliating thing he had managed to do, a little part of his brain was telling him it couldn’t be that bad because Thranduil didn’t exactly seem angry, just a bit put out, and that seemed to be about what Bard had forgotten not what he had done.

It was all very confusing.

“I am talking about the fact that you don’t seem to remember that I said it first.”

“…What?”

“I said it first.”

“Yeah I’m going to need you to tell me exactly what it was that you said first because my brain is having trouble processing what I think you mean.” Bard babbled and a soft smile danced along Thranduil’s lips.

“I love you.”

“What.”

“I love you.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh I am quite serious.”

“But how did we even end up in bed together?” Bard asked, this whole situation was too impossible to process, he had never even allowed himself to imagine a situation where Thranduil was in love with him as well.

“We were sat together drinking wine as we often do in the evenings, and I was watching you talk about your children and it just spilled past my lips. At which point you stared, said it right back to me and I knocked the wine out of your hand and started making up for lost time. You would hardly stop saying it all night.”

Thranduil spoke softly and smiled so tenderly at Bard through his explanation, and he was running a hand through his hair gently and his other hand was resting on his hip, stroking there affectionately and Bard couldn’t do anything but grab Thranduil by his robes and drag him into a deep kiss.

 

Thinking about it, he was actually a pretty lucky bastard after all.


	97. Foodcritic!Thrandy and chef!Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> allyyyyyy I saw this prompt: "you write me a bad restaurant review and i force myself into your kitchen so i can cook you my food until you admit it’s good au" and I thought of chef!Bard and bitchy foodcritic!Thran. You should write it.
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Sig!” Bard called through the little house, he couldn’t find the paper he’d picked up during his run that morning and Sigrid was the only person other than him who ever cleaned up in the house.

Although there was always a chance Tilda had used it for paper aeroplanes.

“Yeah da?” She asked, poking her head out from the kitchen with a moderately guilty look, he would bet money she was stealing a spoonful of chocolate spread while no one was looking again (Bard couldn’t judge, she definitely got it from him).

“Have you seen the paper I picked up this morning? Finally about to get around to actually reading it and it seems to have disappeared.”

“No idea da.” She replied, and she was a good liar really, but she was also his little girl and he knew things at this point, like how she always looked to the left when she was fibbing and fiddled with her nails.

“Sig, where is the paper.” He asked again, and she knew she had been caught.

“Not a clue what you’re talking about da.” She grinned, so she clearly hadn’t done anything actually bad or she wouldn’t be grinning.

“Has Tilda used it or paper aeroplanes to throw at Bain again?”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

“Sig where is it.”

“Nowhere.” She hedged, but as Bard took as step towards her she shut the door to the kitchen slightly, blocking his view inside.

“It’s in there isn’t it?”

“Nope, of course not.” She made one last futile attempt, but as Bard advanced with a grin she shrieked, slammed the door and when Bard made it inside the kitchen she was hastily dumping a mug of coffee onto the paper with a guilty expression.

“Okay what’s going on?” Bard demanded with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Clearly. Now you can either tell me now or I’ll just go fetch a new one and read it before I get back.” Bard told her, his curiosity was well and truly spiked about what she was trying to hide, maybe there was some embarrassing picture of her in there from her last school archery event, she always hated her concentrated expression when she aimed, Bard loved it, it reminded him of her mother.

“Um, well.” She stammered, knowing Bard was going to find out either way. “It’s uh, definitely not a bitchy review about your restaurant.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“By who?”

“Some guy named Thranduil Oropherion.”

“That asshole _again_.”

“He’s written you a bad review before?”

“It’s like he stalks me through every damn menu change.” Bard griped.

He had worked at a grand total of four different restaurants in his career, slowly working his way up from kitchen rat to head chef, and a few months ago, he had been able to actually buy his own restaurant.

It was so weird for them, actually having money, they didn’t really know what to do with it. They’d been scraping by for so long that when Bard actually started doing well for himself it was strange.

Because that was the thing, Bard _was_ a good chef. Every one of his reviews had been raving ever since he had first fed a critic without known. Everyone except Thranduil’s.

It was only four or five months ago that Thranduil Oropherion wrote his first review of him. The very first negative review he had had, and to this day the only negative reviews he had were from him.

For a man who didn’t like his food he sure as hell ate a lot of it, there was a new negative review from him every three or four weeks.

Thing was, they didn’t actually do anything to damage his reputation, there were too many good ones for one negative one to ever stand out.

Also, they were negative, but to Bard something felt almost funny about them. He couldn’t put his finger on it but even though Thranduil was a well-known and serious food critic, there just seemed something almost, well, _unserious_ about it.  

But it was _annoying_. Bard had tried not to let it get to him, but he desperately wanted to know what exactly it was Bard did that he disliked so much, one time the meat had (definitely not) been undercooked, the next it was apparently over cooked, the veg was too hard, the jus wasn’t rich enough, the potatoes weren’t creamed properly, the venison wasn’t tender enough, it was too sweet, too bitter, too overpowering, too bland. You name it, Thranduil had written it at some point.

Bard whished it didn’t get under his skin, _but it did_ , it needled at him like nothing else. Because dammit why did he eat so much of it if he hated it?!

 

Well, Bard had had quite enough of this bastard stalking his food, apparently just so he could say Bard still couldn’t cook and he got in touch.

 

So, less than a week later Bard was waiting in his restaurant for Thranduil Oropherion to turn up so he could cook him a meal and find out once and for all what exactly his problem was.

Thranduil had been surprisingly receptive to his invitation, which was only making him more confused about why exactly he was enthusiastic about Bard cooking for him if he disliked his food so much.  

So Bard was ready, he was braced and ready for some pompous, stuck up food critic to waltz through that door and rip his cooking apart. And he was ready to serve up and incredible meal and be able to sit there while he ate so that he couldn’t claim things were dry or undercook or whatever he usually came up with.

He was so ready.

Then Thranduil walked in and he was so not ready.

He had not been expecting someone who could only be described as a blonde bombshell walking through the front door.

He hoped he had managed to pick his jaw up from the floor before Thranduil noticed (but judging by the smirk he failed).

But Christ, people didn’t just look like that, not real people outside of Photoshop and Bard’s fantasies. Long blonde hair, smooth porcelain skin, high cheekbones, dark brows, ice blue eyes, elegant hands, and legs that just went _on_.

And the worst part was he recognised him, but he just couldn’t quite place from where.

“So, are you going to cook for me or just stand there gaping?” Thranduil asked with a smirk and a raised eyebrow and Bard couldn’t tell if he was flirting or being an asshole, either way it successfully spurred him into action.

“Well, given that you seem to have defective taste-buds I decided to take pity on you.” Bard threw back, which only made Thranduil’s smirk grow and fix Bard with a look that could really only be called wolfish.

But Bard was a man on a mission, he was going to cook a meal so good that Thranduil couldn’t possibly criticise anything. It would be perfect.

He had gone into it intending to impress, and if was being honest that had definitely gotten worse now he could see him. Bard would like to impress him in more ways than one frankly.

Anyway, he got his head in the game (and then couldn’t help but sing some High School Musical in his head because Sigrid had gone through a phase and he liked to deny that he enjoyed it but that would be a lie).  

He was in the kitchen, cooking up a storm when Thranduil appeared leaning in the doorway like some kind of wet dream and very successfully jogging Bard’s memory.

It had been four or five months ago, just before the bloody reviews started actually. Someone had asked to see Bard about the food, and it was usually praise but you could never be completely sure, but when Bard had wiped his hands and turned around all he had seen had been the briefest glimpse of that face (which had left a distinct impression on his subconscious if his dreams were any indication) and a flash of blonde and he made an odd squeaking sound and high tailed it out of there.

In the moment Bard had wondered what the hell had just happened, but they had been very busy that even and had also already been one line cook short so he had pretty quickly forgotten about it in the rush.

It he had had a proper look at that face he never would have forgotten about it.

He had had absolutely no idea that that was the man who had been writing crap reviews of him ever since. Had Bard somehow mortally offended him? It usually took him slightly longer to piss someone off.

He didn’t bring it up, he had a feeling he would find out at some point tonight.

“So, what are you trying to cook for me?” Thranduil said but his tone was _teasing_ , and not the cruel kind of teasing but very much the flirting kind and Bard didn’t really know what to do with that.

“It’s a surprise.” Bard returned and it really wasn’t supposed to sound just as teasing as Thranduil had but he was, in a word, irresistible.

“I am truly terrified.” Thranduil told him and Bard glared at him, but then Thranduil bit his lip and smirked at him and well that was doing things to him.

“Shut up and sit down.” Bard instructed and Thranduil seemed to love that tone on him.

Somehow Bard managed not to get distracted while he was cooking, he was pretty good at immersing himself in his dishes and keep focus and he was glad of it now. He would be mortified if he actually did make a mistake this time round. He had a feeling the teasing would be never ending.

Bard knew it was perfect even as he plated it up. He wasn’t an arrogant man by any means, but he knew food, and there wasn’t a damn thing on that plate that he hadn’t done to perfection.

He went out into the dining area where there was one solitary table laid out and Thranduil was lounging back in his chair in a way that was absolutely obscene and Bard was just glad he managed not to drop the plate.

He set it down in front of Thranduil and slid into the seat opposite where he waited for Thranduil to slowly – and somehow ridiculously sensually – eat the meal while he tried his best not to just stare and that ridiculously pouty red mouth while he did so.

And Thranduil had an unfairly blank face as he ate. Although Bard could’ve sworn his eyes flickered a little as he took his first bite, but he couldn’t be sure.

He shouldn’t be this nervous about some bastard’s opinion when it was apparently Bard was his favourite chef to criticise.

“Why do you look so goddamn pleased with yourself?” Bard asked as Thranduil delicately wiped his highly distracting mouth and settle back in the seat with a smug smile.

“It was delicious.”

“You kn– wait, what?”

“It was delicious. Honestly Bard it’s always been delicious, have you ever even tasted it? Of course it’s delicious.”

“What the hell is your problem then?!”

“Bard, you are aware that it is pretty common for talented chefs to request to cook for a critic they receive a slew of negative reviews from?” Thranduil explained as if that actually explained anything with an amused smirk on his lips.

“Yeah.”

“Well then, it’s hardly my fault it took you so long to ask me.”

“I am so confused right now.” Bard groaned, fixing Thranduil with a half-hearted glare.

“I wanted to you cook me dinner Bard.”

“You ran away from me the first time you saw me.” Bard pointed out, Thranduil was really making very little sense to him.

“Oh you remember that? I wasn’t sure. And I must admit I may have panicked a little bit.”

“What?” Bard really was getting increasingly confused by Thranduil.

“Well, all I wanted to do was compliment the chef but said chef was far more attractive than I anticipated.”

“Why write a terrible review then?” Bard whined, he would address the attractive comment later. This unfairly attractive man made absolutely no sense, at least to Bard anyway, Thranduil was rolling his eyes like Bard was a complete idiot.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“Evidently.” Bard sighed exasperated.

“It is pretty common for talented chefs to request to cook for a critic they receive a slew of negative reviews from.” Thranduil said slowly like he was speaking to a particularly amusing child.

And then the penny dropped.

“Did you seriously entrap me into asking you to dinner?” Bard asked in disbelief, even though after only a few hours with the man he could totally believe he would do something like that.

(It was harder to believe that someone who looked like _that_ actually wanted to date him really).

“Yes and it was lovely. I was thinking maybe a gallery for a second date, if you want to of course.”

“This was _so_ not a date.”

“Oh I don’t know, you made me dinner, we’re alone, and you’ve been staring at my mouth all evening like you have plans for it.”

“I, now. I mean. Um.” Bard stammered, flushing red and making Thranduil smirk.

What a bastard.

“Still not a date.” Bard grumbled when his face didn’t feel like it was on fire anymore.

“Oh.” Thranduil said, suddenly crestfallen, making Bard sigh, he was going to be hard work.

(He had a feeling he would be worth it).

“I just mean. That if I’m going to take you on a date I would like to know about it first so that I can actually do it properly.”

“Oh? And what would doing it properly entail?” Thranduil asked with a completely lecherous look.

“Me actually knowing about it for a start.” Bard bitched, getting a laugh out of Thranduil. “And then moonlight and cheesy moves and making out in the back of the cinema.” Bard grinned. “You don’t get a home cooked meal until at least the fifth date I’m afraid.”

“What if I wrote you another crappy review?” Thranduil smirked.

“Then I’d have to recook the meal and prove that there was nothing wrong with my dish of course.” Bard grinned and Thranduil laughed that beautiful melodic laugh of his and before he knew it a pair of plush red lips were pressing against his own.

Definitely the weirdest, but also the best first date Bard had ever had.

 

 

Thranduil continued to write him shitty reviews because he apparently found Bard’s disgruntled face hilarious, and Bard was glad, it was their thing. A little weird maybe, but Bard wouldn’t change it, without them he would never have met the ridiculous man.

They always made him laugh, Thranduil always insulted his favourite parts of the meal the most.

So he checked every few weeks for Thranduil’s latest review. Even when Thranduil had actually moved in, he always just left them for Bard to find, grinning when Bard inevitably threw the paper at his pretty head.

He didn’t know why he was surprised when one day he found this review:

 

            _Thranduil Oropherion reviews The Barge(man):_

_Some of you have cottoned on to the fact that I have been reviewing The Barge restaurant rather frequently, I know because I get a fair few letters asking me if I have working taste buds. What you are unaware of is that the chef is my poor put upon boyfriend._

_And I must say, upon reviewing The Bargeman himself for over a year now, there is only one question I have left._

_Marry me?_

 

 

And well, reviews didn’t get much better than that.

 

 

 

 

 

http://thrandythefabulous.tumblr.com/post/117201970594/allyyyyyy-i-saw-this-prompt-you-write-me-a-bad


	98. A Day In the Life Of Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No prompt this time just something that came to me while I was trying to revise (it was very inconvenient) but because I am barduil trash I immediately stopped revising and wrote this instead
> 
> Rated: G/T

 

“Ugh.” Thranduil groaned as Bard’s alarm started blaring from the other side of the bed. “Please shut that damn thing up.”

But Bard never did, he was usually up and out of bed before his alarm went off and he _always_ forgot to turn the damn alarm off before he wandered into the bathroom.

Or the bastard just thought it was hilarious to leave it going when Thranduil could have at least and other half hour in bed.

(Okay that was a lie Thranduil was always late to work).

Thranduil whined and grumbled to himself as he rolled out of bed, he was completely devoid of his usual elegance in the mornings and staggered over to turn the bloody alarm off. At least it wasn’t as bad as the way Bard insisted on getting up before noon on the weekends, honestly it was like he didn’t know the weekends were for.

Although having said that he had never failed to reappear when Thranduil was finally waking up, mischievous glint in his eye as he slipped back into bed for some sleepy morning sex.

So maybe he did know what weekends were for after all.

Thranduil dragged on some clothes and padded downstairs, he’d worry about his hair when he had had his morning coffee, and honestly no one expected him to be able to function before then. Bard always found it amusing with a laugh and a kiss to his bed head as they passed each other in the kitchen.

Thranduil set the coffee machine going as Bard headed outside, a caramel latte for himself and a strong black coffee for Bard. He was probably checking on his car, seeing if it was going to run today, really Thranduil had no idea why he was so attached to that piece of junk, either way they were definitely taking Thranduil’s car this morning because he did not fancy breaking down this morning.

Having said that, one time breaking down had turned into a very fun night in the back of that volatile car. But there was a time and a place to break down and it was not while on the way to work.

They always drove together nowadays, when Thranduil had work anyway, Bard’s archery school was on the way and they finished at about the same time so he could also pick him up, and Thranduil never missed an opportunity to do a little bit more to help the planet. Another reason they usually took Thranduil’s electric car and not Bard’s rusty old jeep.

When the kids were younger they didn’t drive together because they had to reach too many different schools in time, but now the kids were older and had their own lives, they all still hovered though, Bard and Thranduil often teased them about it, pointing out that it should be them worried about the kids not the other way around.

For some reason Thranduil remembered nervous and concerned looks and sad smiles rather than the giggles they had been expecting in response. Surely they didn’t think Bard and he were struggling for nothing could be farther from the truth, hell, maybe they just missed being at home. They missed having them there as well of course, but they were all clever kids with good lives, they weren’t worried about them except in the way parents just couldn’t help. And He and Bard had each other, so even if their nest felt a little empty without they children, they weren’t lonely, they had each other after all.

Sigrid was living with her boyfriend, had been for a few years now, moving in together after uni and not looking back. Thranduil knew it was only a matter of time before a ring appeared on her finger, Bard was such a soppy moron that he would probably cry when Sigrid finally does get engaged. Thranduil couldn’t wait to see it, well and the wedding, not only would he make sure it was beautiful and perfect but he couldn’t wait for an excuse to get Bard into (and out of) and suit again. It had been far too long.

Bain had managed to get an apprenticeship as a mechanic, learning on the job as he went, he would be qualified very soon, Bard had been suggesting a barbeque to celebrate when he qualified. Thranduil thought it was a wonderful idea apart from the whole issue of English weather, but then, Bard’s food was always worth it, he was especially good at barbequing.

Tilda was just starting her second year at uni, she had been reluctant to go originally, the first year and at the end of summer again this year, but he and Bard had encouraged her into it. It was odd though, she did enjoy uni, they knew she did. Maybe she just liked it at home more, she always had been their little girl after all.

Legolas was working in environmental law and making Thranduil and Bard proud every single day. He lived close by though, commuting into the city everyday was apparently cheaper than actually living in the city. He had recently been talking about moving back in, which was utterly ridiculous because he had a house with his boyfriend and Thranduil knew that they were very happy together. Come to think of it, it really didn’t make any sense, maybe they were having money troubles. He’d talk to Bard about it when they were on the way to work, they had more than enough to help out their son if he needed it and they were actually seeing him this afternoon.

Thranduil opened the front door and called out to Bard to let him know his coffee was ready before heading upstairs to make himself a little more presentable for the day. He left his hair loose (purely because Bard was so fond of running his fingers through it which Thranduil loved) and made sure the clothes he had thrown on when he got up actually matched (of course they did, there were some things he would never let slip) before going back down into the kitchen.

Bard still hadn’t touched his coffee, how he functioned without it Thranduil did not know, but he was probably just distracted by his dying car. They were going to be late if they didn’t get a move on, so he decanted the mug into a thermos for him so it would stay warm and he could drink it on the way.

Thranduil grabbed his keys and forwent his coat as it was a pretty warm day, Bard was wearing a shirt that left his strong arms gloriously revealed and Thranduil wished he could spend all day watching them flex as he taught archery.

Thranduil slipped in the car and Bard grinned at him when he saw the thermos, leaning across and placing a kiss on Thranduil’s cheek as he put it in the cup holder in the car, Thranduil just rolled his eyes and started the car, but not before Bard stole a real kiss from him.

Bard chattered away as Thranduil drove and no matter how long they had been married, Thranduil was never going to work out how exactly he managed to be so animated in the mornings. Thranduil asked him about Legolas and whether or not he thought he needed money, Bad wasn’t sure, he agreed they should ask him though.

They were almost all the way to Bard’s archery school when Thranduil remembered that he actually didn’t have work today, he had taken the day off. Bard sniggered and he swatted him about the head more playfully than anything.

“You left your alarm on. And I go on autopilot in the mornings. Your stupid alarm means I’m meant to be at work.” Thranduil griped, Bard was usually good at switching it off when Thranduil didn’t have to work for whatever reason.

“Well, otherwise you’d never get out of bed.” Bard lilting voice said, and Thranduil stuck his tongue out at him. “Besides, you’ll be late for your chat with your friend if I didn’t get you up.”

“Doesn’t mean I needed to be gotten up at seven thirty.” Thranduil moaned and Bard gave an innocent look.

“What can I say, you’re too cute in the mornings to resist.” He winked and Thranduil tried to glare but it clearly wasn’t working because Bard just laughed as they pulled into the car park for his archery school.

There weren’t any kids there yet, but Bard liked to get there nice and early to set up. He leaned across the car again, giving Thranduil another kiss, the feeling of his scruffy but perfect beard forever engraved on Thranduil’s memory before hopping out the car, giving Thranduil a wave as he drove off, smiling at his husband.

In all honesty, now that he was awake, he didn’t mind Bard getting him up early. For one thing it had meant he got to spend more time with him and make sure he got to work safely instead of in that death-trap of a car of his. It also meant he could run a few errands before seeing his friend Elrond over lunch, there were a few bits they needed for the house and dinner later as Legolas would be joining them.

Also it was their anniversary soon and Thranduil had ordered him something special, a hand crafted longbow with a little engraving on it which read: _I will love you forever, from here and from the stars_ , something Bard had said to him once. There were arrows to go with it that had engraved on the shaft: _I don’t want the stars, I just want you_. Which wasexactly as Thranduil had responded, he thinks they were in bed at the time, he couldn’t really remember, he just remembered the words, they had meant something. Hopefully it would be ready to pick up.

Throughout the day Thranduil sent Bard little text messages, he knew he couldn’t respond to them while he was at work, but he had said once how much he enjoyed reading them, so Thranduil always sent them, just random musings and observations and I love yous.

The bow and arrows were ready to pick up and it was utterly beautiful. Thranduil couldn’t stop smiling knowing how much Bard was going to love it as he carefully put the cases it had all come in into the boot of his car.

Lunch with Elrond was as it always was, in his office because for some reason he couldn’t leave even for lunch, but then again, it was only ever Thranduil that actually seemed to eat, weird. As usual Thranduil talked and Elrond occasionally said something himself or made one of his wise observations or asked him a question, usually about how he was doing, Thranduil rolled his eyes, Elrond worried far too much. He told him about the bow and arrows he had had made for their anniversary, Elrond smiled a little but wasn’t nearly as exuberant about it as Thranduil would expect but then, it was a very personal present so maybe he didn’t get it.

After lunch he killed time in town sending Bard snapchats as he went, again Bard couldn’t respond while he worked but he liked getting them and Thranduil liked sending them anyway.

In the afternoon Thranduil picked Bard up from work, Thranduil was a little suspicious because all the kids were always already gone, but then Bard was meticulous about all the equipment going away safely and tidily so he probably told Thranduil half an hour later than when it actually finished so he could clear up.

They parked in town and waited in the park for Legolas, both of them excited to see their son, even if they did see him a lot these days. Bard was planning on cooking some kind of risotto, and he was making Thranduil supress a blush when he told him what he planned for dessert in bed later.

Eventually Legolas turned up and they all headed back to the car. Thranduil let Legolas drive, he had an errand to run and flowers to do it, or maybe he and Gimli had had a fight and they were for him later, either way it didn’t really matter.

Thranduil split his attention between talking to Bard in the backseat and Legolas next to him until eventually Legolas parked the car.

“Do you want to come?” Legolas asked him uncharacteristically anxiously, he probably felt it was polite to ask but didn’t actually want his dads to accept the invite. And honestly Thranduil didn’t know why Legolas invited him at all, he had always liked to visit his mother alone, besides, they would be here when he got back after all.

“No, you go do whatever it is you’re here for, then we can all go home, Bard’s making risotto.” Thranduil smiled at him reassuringly, he knew it was one of Legolas’ favourite meals, probably a good thing with how stressed Legolas looked, for a moment Thranduil thought he was going to say something else but he just released a breath, gently picked up the flowers – not for Gimli then – and slipped out the car.

Thranduil turned in his seat and smiled and Bard in the backseat before climbing back there like a child so they could talk easier, he didn’t know how long Legolas was going to be. Bard told him about his day at work, a pretty normal day  but he always brought back stories to tell Thranduil, the current one was about a little girl who had almost shot him in the arse, missing him by centimetres, with a leer Thranduil offered to kiss it better later even though she missed.

 

Legolas carefully set the flowers down by the grave, he tried to think of something to say, but as he looked back at the car, he finally broke down.

He could see his father talking.

 

He could see his father talking to himself.

 

 

 

 


	99. Making out in the cinema

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I just want barduil making out in the cinema
> 
> Rated: M

 

Bard honestly did not know why they bothered to go to the cinema, it wasn’t like it was free.

And he knew that Thranduil had the money to burn, but seriously, it seemed like a bit of a waste of it, that money could’ve bought a pizza or two.

And of course he loved spending time with Thranduil, whatever they were doing, even if they were just lounging around together not really doing anything at all.

And it’s not that he didn’t love the cinema, he did, he really did.

But it would be nice to be able to actually watch the film.

It’s not like he was _complaining_ about Thranduil’s tendency to distract him throughout the entire film, it’s not like he would ever complain about Thranduil’s kissing him and slowly migrating into his lap as the film went on unseen.

But really, it’s not like they needed to spend almost ten quid each just to make out in the back row.

Which was, incidentally, exactly what they were doing right now.

Bard was pretty sure that Thranduil would have all the armrests in every cinema in the world removed if he could, because leaning over them was always a little awkward (and usually his excuse for ending up completely in Bard’s lap) really it was amazing they hadn’t been kicked out of any cinema’s yet.

Bard had been really excited to see The Avengers: Age of Ultron for ages now, and he was still going to be excited to see it when they left the cinema because so far he’s seen the opening credits and that was about it.

(They had been quality opening credits at least).

But the thing was, it was rather difficult to give a shit about anything, including Marvel, when his ridiculous boyfriend was slipping seamlessly from his seat and into Bard’s lap (a move had had perfected from a lot of practice).

Thranduil had his knees planted either side of Bard’s hips and settled himself down on Bard’s lap in a way was just completely indecent for public spaces (another thing Bard was unable to give a shit about currently) as he started kissing Bard deeper with the new, easier angle.

Really it was an actual miracle that the cinema was relatively empty and they were tucked away in the back at least six rows behind anyone else, probably more.

It was also a very good that the film was quite loud, because for the first time (well the first time in the cinema, not the first time ever, far from it) Thranduil was making these devastating little whining noises into his mouth.

On the one hand, he wanted nothing more than to make even more of those needy little noises fall from those plush red lips. On the other hand they were literally in public, a darkened corner of public true, but still. They could get into a lot of trouble.

Bard couldn’t quite work out if he cared, but one of them had to be the responsible one, and that was never going to be Thranduil.

He went to pull back slightly and point out to Thranduil that they were in public, but as he did Thranduil rolled his hips down onto Bard’s crotch, sending him from half-hard to rock hard in seconds (it was pavlovian at this point) and making Bard bite down on Thranduil’s lip to supress his own moan.

(Which only made Thranduil moan louder, luckily there was an explosion in the film at exactly the right moment).

“Thran we are in public.” Bard whispered even as Thranduil shifted his hips again and that was rubbing Bard’s very interested cock in ways that really was not okay for the setting.

“We are.” Thranduil agreed, tone making it very clear that he really did not care.

“We can’t.” Bard protested weakly, not really meaning it but feeling the need to put up a token protest (at least that way if they did get caught he could blame his depraved boyfriend).

“I beg to differ.” Thranduil purred directly into his ear biting on his ear lobe and that just wasn’t playing fair and he knew it.

Thranduil started moving his hips with more rhythm, rolling them and pressing them together and Bard was caught between being distressed and just losing himself in the sensation.

“Do you want me to stop?” Thranduil asked, and it was teasing yes, but Bard knew he would if Bard really asked him to.

“Don’t you dare.” Bard growled back, burying a hand in that silky hair and pulling on it to bear Thranduil’s neck for his lips.

If they hadn’t been watching a loud action film then someone would have definitely caught them at Thranduil’s reaction to having his hair pulled.

There really wasn’t any other way to describe it at this point, Thranduil was most definitely giving him a lap dance in the back of the cinema.

And not even a subtle one.

He was grinding down against Bard’s lap and Bard was muffling his gasps by attacking his neck and at some point he had pressed his hand over Thranduil’s mouth in a vain last attempt to keep him from drawing attention to them while his other moved from Thranduil’s hair and down onto his hip with a vice like grip.

It was completely inappropriate.

It was so much fun.

Bard’s hips were bucking up as Thranduil’s rolled his down and bit down desperately on Bard’s hand so that he didn’t shout out and really Bard should be as close as he was but he was eighteen years old and Thranduil was too hot for words and his elegant hands were gripping onto Bard’s shoulders.

But no way was he coming first when this was Thranduil’s debauched idea (it usually was – not that Bard was ever unhappy to go along with it, quite the opposite).

He slipped his hand from Thranduil’s hip and slipped it into the back of Thranduil’s trousers (which was an incredible feat given how obscenely tight they were) and pressed a finger over Thranduil’s rim, toying with it slightly.

Bard clamped his hand down harder over Thranduil’s mouth just in time to muffle his strained shout as he came, Bard bucking his hips up desperately half a dozen more times before ruining his own trousers.

They were still panting and coming down, Thranduil collapsed on his lap, wrapped up in his arms when a cinema worker shined a torch on them, looking very embarrassed when she realised what exactly they had been doing.

Luckily the cinema manager let them off without having them charged for public indecency.

Three years later when Thranduil decided he wanted a quickie in an elevator they weren’t so lucky.

They got the whole thing on security footage, the final straw had probably been when Thranduil had asked for a copy.

It was hilarious.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Barduil trash bags, as I am sure you are aware, the next chapter is chapter 100!!
> 
> To commemorate this, I am having a little vote where you guys get to chose what I write for number 100! Here are your choices:
> 
> 1\. [This lovely gifset](http://hiril-galad.tumblr.com/post/110400707542/darksideofafangirl-the-smile-bard-goes-to)  
> 2\. [Imagine Tilda starting fights at school and Bard getting called into the Headmasters office about it and meeting Headmaster Thranduil](http://gamoraaaaa.tumblr.com/post/109580738171/starlightelvenking-imagine-tilda-starting-fights)  
> 3\. A 5 + 1 thing fic  
> 4\. 'for some reason we have to share a bed'  
> 5\. Fake relationship au
> 
> Let me know in the comments what you want, in a day or so I will count up and the winning one will be ficced for chapter 100!
> 
> I love you all <3


	100. Headmaster!Thrandy Parent!Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [This was the winning pompt:](http://starlightelvenking.tumblr.com/post/109573993551/imagine-tilda-starting-fights-at-school-and-bard)
> 
> Imagine Tilda starting fights at school and Bard getting called into the Headmasters office about it and meeting Headmaster Thranduil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo it was very very very close (srsly there was like 4 votes separating 1st and 4th) So what i will say is, I am planning vaguely in the future to do a fake/pretend relationship multi-chapter fic, and I will do my best to get around to sharing a bed and the gifset at some point in this collection
> 
> Thank you all for voting! I hope you enjoy it!

“Mr Bowman?” Came the tinny voice down the phone.

“Ya?” Bard answered distractedly with the phone trapped between his shoulder and ear, he was concentrating much harder on not dropping all the various tools tucked under his arms than on what the person down the phone was saying.

“…Mr Bowman?” The man asked again, he’d probably asked Bard a question that he’d missed, but he really didn’t want to drop the car battery and all the tools on his foot if he could avoid it.

“Yeah?” He repeated, the phone almost slipping out from between his should and ear when he went to put the scrap metal he was holding down.

“Are you listening to me?” He continued, sounding more than a little irritated.

“Not really, but if you can give me like ten seconds I will be.” Bard told him, ducking down to let the phone fall onto the table without breaking it, and quickly setting everything else down on the workbench beside the car he was working on, before scooping the phone back up. “Okay, I’m here, how can I help you?”

“Yes. I’m calling from the school. We have your daughter Tilda here and– .” 

“Is she okay?” Bard cut in, standing up straight, he’d never been called about any of his kids before.

“Yes she is fine.” The man confirmed, sounding more exacerbated every time Bard spoke, he clearly didn’t have any children himself.

“Okay good.” Bard relaxed at little, leaning back against the desk.

“Tilda is fine, the boy she punched has a cut on his face.”

“That doesn’t sound like her.” Bard commented, a frown furrowing his brow, there was no way Tilda had just hit someone out of the blue.

“Yes well we need you to come down to the school.”

“It’s kind of the middle of my work shift. Can it wait till when I come pick her up at the end of the day? Bard requested, he would really rather not abandon Percy unless he had to.

“We would appreciate it if you could come down now.” And well that was one way of saying no.

“Well I mean I can try but I can’t really guarantee anything.” Bard told him, he had no idea if Percy would be able to finish without him, he’d have to ask.

“Thank you.” The man finished curtly, hanging up the phone before Bard could say anything else.

Bard sighed and wandered around the garage until he came to their little office to poke his head in on Percy. It was just the two of them, they had been so very done with the Master at their last job, that they had decided to take a risk and open up their own garage instead. They did okay, it was only small but it kept them both and their families afloat with minimal stress, so they were happy at least. And it was nicer working with your friend rather than under someone who liked to call himself ‘The Master’ – he would love to have that title psychoanalysed at some point.

“That was the school, they’re asking me to go in, personally I’m tempted to make them wait, but I probably shouldn’t if we can help it.” Bard explained, his friend was looking over their numbers for the month.

“Nah, you go, I should be able to finish here without too much fuss.” Percy waved him off and Bard headed out to his own car, which wasn’t nearly as nice as the one he was fixing currently.

It was only a short drive over to the school, and there wasn’t exactly much traffic at this time during the working day, so it only took him about ten minutes before he was pulling up outside Tilda’s primary school.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the window of his car as he shut the door and grimaced. He had his mechanic overalls on but tided off around his waist because it was bloody hot in that shop so he never wore it all the way up (and Tilda had once called it his onsie and taken all the dignity out of it), which meant that on top he only had his grease and oil stained white vest, his hair was pretty scruffy too.

Oh well, they called him in during the middle of work they could deal with his work clothes.

The only other times he’d been in was for parent/teacher evenings which were incredibly uneventful when you were blessed with three well-behaved, clever children – luckily none of them were anything like Bard when he was in school, he had been a nightmare.

Bard pushed through the front doors of the school, and walked in, heading over to the desk where a harried looking man was sat, he would bet it was the man he had spoken to on the phone.

“How can I help you?” He asked in a harassed voice when Bard lent on the reception desk, Bard did not miss the judgey look his outfit got.

“I was asked to come in about my daughter, Tilda?” Bard answered.

“Ah yes, Mr Bowman, how good of you to make it.” The man replied, and really he was possibly the most passive aggressive person Bard had ever actually encountered, he would be offended if he wasn’t amused instead, he was a pretty easy going person these days.

“Yes well you did make it sound very urgent.” Bard responded, laced with sarcasm that made the man scowl as he indicated for Bard to follow him.

He was lead into the headmaster’s office, one Mr Oropherion if the sign on the door wasn’t telling him lies, and that was an interesting name, the receptionist knocked.

“Yes?” Called a voice from inside and wasn’t _that_ one hell of a voice, Christ it was like liquid gold and it was leading to thoughts he shouldn’t be having about his kids headmaster.

Somehow the headmaster bit just made it even better.

“Mr Oropherion, Mr Bowman is here about Tilda.” The receptionist cracked the door open and poked his head in.

“Yes, send him in Feren.” Said more of that smooth deep voice.

And dear lord did he have the looks to match.

That hair should not work, but did it ever. It was a waterfall of silver silk that Bard really quite fancied burying his hands in and pulling on. He had snowy skin that look so good Bard wanted to bite it and see if he looked even better with dark bruises sucked into it (he would bet that it would). He was all long limbs folded elegantly into his chair, lounging in a way that looked regal and was giving Bard ideas already. He had high cheekbones and a sharp, strong jaw and surprisingly dark eyebrows that framed piercing icy blue eyes.

Icy blue eyes that were looking at him. And maybe Bard would have been embarrassed to have been caught staring if it weren’t for the fact that Mr Oropherion looked down right hungry as he looked at Bard’s chest, thinly covered by his oil stained vest. That may have made Bard a little bold.

When the headteacher’s eyes caught his Bard raised an eyebrow and smirked, he had maybe been expecting a blush, what he got instead was a dangerous smirk of his own thrown back at him.

Oh this was going to be fun.

“Da?”

Oh right yeah, he was actually here for a reason which was tragically not to spread this beautiful man out over his desk.

“I hear you’ve been causing trouble.” Bard told her, voice slightly scolding, as he walked over to the desk that she was sat in front of. “Bard Bowman.” Bard introduced himself, extending a hand which was met by a delicate yet strong hand far paler than his own, he liked the way his slightly tanned skin looked against the alabaster one.

He wanted to see more of that porcelain skin.

But now really wasn’t the time, or the place (not that that wouldn’t be fun).

“Thranduil Oropherion, pleasure to meet you Mr Bowman.” Thranduil introduced himself and really that voice just shouldn’t be allowed, he wasn’t the only one to drag his fingers when they released each other’s hand.

“I assure you that Bard is fine, Thranduil.” Bard replied, rolling the name off his tongue, slightly slower than was strictly necessary.

He had no idea if Thranduil wanted him to call him that or Mr Oropherion, but frankly, he wanted to see how the name sounded on his tongue, and unless his eyes were deceiving him, he wasn’t the only one who had liked it.

Bard sat down in the seat next to Tilda’s in front of Mr Oropherion’s desk and as much as he wanted to relentlessly and obviously flirt the man right out of his tailored suit, he was actually here for his daughter.

“I was told you hit someone.” Bard started, addressing his daughter. “Is that true?”

“Yes.” Tilda responded defiantly, little arms crossed over her chest.

“Want to tell me why?” Bard prompted, Thranduil watching the exchange.

“No.” Tilda grumbled and Bard fixed her with his best stern father look (which was crap but Tilda took pity on him and relented anyway). “He was bullying my friend and you always taught me to stand up to bullies.”

“Yeah, I didn’t necessarily mean with your fists.” Bard told her, a little exasperated.

“Yeah well they wouldn’t stop da! They’ve been picking on him for ages and we already told them to go away a like a billion times!” She protested.

“Why didn’t you go to a teacher?” Bard asked her.

“My friend didn’t want me to. Said it would make it worse.” Tilda answered, the Catch-22 that most children being bullied seem to find themselves in.

“Tilda, if your friend is being bullied he needs to tell us so we can help, can you tell us who it is?” Thranduil tried, and really, his voice was incredibly soft when speaking to Tilda. Bard didn’t know if that was just his way with children or because he was sat there, but Tilda didn’t look surprised by his tone so he guessed it was normal, at least for the children, he had sounded much sterner when speaking to Feren. 

“Can’t.” Tilda told him.

“Why not?” Bard asked, trying to nudge her gently into telling them so the school could at least try to help.

“He asked me not to.” Tilda said like that was that, well, he’d raised loyal kids at least. Although, Tilda did look like she would quite like to tell.

“Tilda, if you tell me we can try and stop it. And if we find out what you’re saying is true – and I do believe you – then we’ll be much more lenient about you hitting that boy.” Thranduil attempted to bargain.

“He asked me not to, especially you Mr Oropherion.”

“Why?” Thranduil started, but Bard interrupted.

“Can you tell me? If he only asked you to not tell Mr Oropherion.”

“But you’ll just tell him straight away.” Tilda pointed out.

“True, but that’s still not the same as you telling him, and then we can help him.” Bard reasoned, and really, Tilda wasn’t the kind to keep quiet when she was being picked on and she would know they would at least try to help, so Bard wasn’t surprised when she reluctantly leant up and whispered a name in Bard’s ear.

“Thank you darlin’.” Bard smiled at his youngest who looked pretty conflicted but not like she regretted it.

“Thank you Tilda, you can go, but you’re going to have to spend your lunch breaks with a teacher for a week, you can’t hit someone, okay?”

“Even if they’re a poo-head?”

“Yes, unfortunately even if they’re a ‘poo-head’ I can’t allow it.” Thranduil replied, and Bard could tell he was trying to supress a grin at her choice of words.

“Fine.” She sighed, well more like huffed, but still it was agreement. She hopped down from her chair and headed out of the office, leaving Bard and Thranduil alone.

“What name did she tell you?” Thranduil asked when the door was shut.

“A kid called Legolas?” Bard repeated the name, trying to say it right, and as he did Thranduil’s features became stony. “You okay?”

“Maybe she won’t be having detention.” Thranduil grit out.

“Um, why? I actually thought it was pretty fair.”

“Legolas would be my son.” Thranduil said and he was practically fuming at this point.

“Ah.” Bard responded, he was so articulate sometimes, Thranduil just deflated a little and sighed.

“At least I know he has a good friend.” Thranduil muttered, making a note of something on a memo pad.

“That he does. I could always tell Til to make sure no one is looking next time.” Bard teased, he wasn’t being serious of course, but it got a little laugh out of Thranduil, who was somehow even more beautiful when he laughed.

“Tempting.” Thranduil admitted, voice just slightly too low, eyes fixed on Bard.

“Mmm.” Bard hummed in agreement, holding his eye contact.

There was a charged moment between them that Bard finally broke with a smirk.

“It’s been a long time since I was in the headmaster’s office. Although I must admit, most of my visits were in secondary school not primary school.”

“Bad were you?” Thranduil took the bait, quirking an eyebrow.

“Terrible. You?”

“Awful.”

“And now?”

“Even worse.” Thranduil’s voice was smooth and low and he bit at his cherry red lip in a way that was definitely calculated but didn’t make it any less inviting.

“Really? From what I can see you’re all very prim and proper.”

“Oh? And what about you? Old habits die hard I see, still working the bad boy look, aren’t people supposed to grow out of that?”

“You seem to like it.” Bard challenged, Thranduil only smirked again in response. “Funny, I wouldn’t have thought someone like you would go for someone as rough around the edges as me.”

“I happen to like it quite rough.” Thranduil responded, and it sounded like a dare.

“Oh really?” Bard asked, more than ready to answer that dare, giving Thranduil a moment to back out, he didn’t, he raised his eyebrow instead, another dare.

Bard didn’t waste a second reaching over and grabbing his tie to drag him in for a truly filthy first kiss.

It was all tongue and teeth and there was nothing gentle about it, it was electricity and it was making Bard want even more. The desk made it awkward but Bard didn’t let it stop him from burying his hands in that soft silver hair and pulling while he bit down on Thranduil’s lip, and Thranduil moaned straight into his mouth which was an absolutely delicious noise which made Bard’s dick start to pay some serious attention. Bard would worry about seeming desperate if it wasn’t for the fact that when he slipped his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth Thranduil fucking _whimpered_ , which was doing seriously good things for Bard.

God he wanted to spread him out on that desk.

But right now Thranduil was practically draped across it as he started scrabbling at Bard’s clothes, and Bard was pretty sure he was going to enjoy teasing him even more.

“As much as I want nothing more than to strip you down and fuck you across this desk until you can’t remember anything but my name.” Bard started, pulling away slightly and purring into Thranduil’s ear, biting at the lobe and licking around the shell which was keeping the enticing little noises falling from Thranduil’s lips. “You called me away from work in the middle of the day and I really do need to get back.”

At that Thranduil made the most desperate sound Bard had ever heard and pulled him back as he tried to leave, practically crawling across his desk to reach him, making Bard chuckle. Bard latched his mouth onto Thranduil’s creamy neck and sucked in what would be one hell of a love-bite and Thranduil was still making those little whining noises and had gone pliant under his ministrations.

“Besides, _when_ I fuck you – because I promise it will be when and not if – I plan on taking my time with you, taking you apart entirely.” Bard murmured into his ear and Thranduil had actually climbed over his desk and was now sitting on the edge of it, moaning obscenely as Bard bit another kiss into his neck. “It also sounds like I’m going to have to get you a gag if I ever plan on fucking you in here.” Bard mused, which was actually a very tempting idea and Thranduil’s whimper seemed to agree.

“But until then…” Bard trailed off, daring to squeeze and rub Thranduil through his trousers just for a second before pulling away.

“You can’t be serious.” Thranduil gasped as Bard arranged his overalls to cover his hard on so that he could walk through a school without being arrested on sight.

He slid his hand into Thranduil’s pocket, technically looking for his phone but enjoying the opportunity to tease him a little more. He fished out the phone and sent a text to himself before slipping it back into his pocket.

Thranduil looked completely outraged, but also like he was thoroughly intrigued, _good_ , Bard didn’t intend on this being a one-time thing.

“I’ll call you.” Bard winked and admired his handiwork, Thranduil’s hair was a mess, he was a little sweaty, had a very obvious tent in his smart trousers, kiss reddened lips hanging open and a couple of love bites already forming on his throat.

It was a sight Bard never intended to forget.  And with one final wink he left the building.

He called Thranduil when he finished at work and he ended up finishing him off over the phone as Thranduil had apparently decided to do some teasing of his own by making Bard listen (because there was no way in hell he was hanging up) as he brought himself off.

Thranduil apparently didn’t think this was sufficient revenge though, because when Bard took him to dinner Thranduil initiated some pretty heavy making out – they were basically rubbing off against each other – up against the door to his house, and then shut the door in Bard’s face leaving him hard and wanting.

Thranduil laughed at him on the other side of the door before saying something about his bed and toys and that maybe Bard would get lucky on the second date.

Bard did indeed get lucky on the second date, many many times.  

Thranduil brought his car into the garage the next day to be reupholstered.

 


	101. Relcutant!Bard and an understanding Thrandy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Reluctant!Bard because he had a bad experience when he was young with a man taking advantage of him but Thranduil shows him how it should be? 
> 
> Warning for a past reference to non-con, although this is essentially fluffy
> 
> Rated: T

 

 

“Bard, are you okay?” Thranduil asked, concern lacing his tone as he pulled back.

“Um– ” responded, desperately wishing that he was okay and kind of hating himself for the fact that he wasn’t.

Bard immediately forced himself to redirect that anger and the person who actually deserved it and settled for being highly frustrated with himself and his inability to just get on with it.

“I’m going to take that as a no. What’s wrong?” Thranduil enquired, sitting them both up on the sofa and running his long, elegant fingers through Bard’s hair comfortingly and Bard could literally feel the tension easing out of his muscles.  

But Bard was embarrassed, he had been with Thranduil for a few months now and he should have told him ages ago, right at the beginning really, but he hadn’t, which was making the current situation even worse.

“Nothing, it’s fine.” Bard tried, but Thranduil was apparently having none of it.

“Are you honestly expecting me to believe that?” Thranduil replied, fixing him with a worried look and honestly no Bard had not expected him to believe it, but a guy could hope.

Dammit he was never going to be able to resist that face, least of all when it was all soft and concerned. He sighed, knowing he was going to have to tell him.  

They had been making out on Thranduil’s plush sofa, and honestly that was a serious achievement, it had taken Bard almost a month to let Thranduil so much as peck him on the lips. He hadn’t even given an excuse, he just used to duck out of the way and blush in embarrassment and he was pretty sure Thranduil had found it adorable. Having said that he did stop doing it actually and waited for Bard to initiate their first kiss. Maybe he had cottoned onto something, he just hadn’t known quite what.

Anyway, they had been making out, and it was great and Bard could just about cry with happiness that he finally felt comfortable enough to make out with Thranduil on a sofa. And it had all been good, and when Thranduil had pushed Bard down on the sofa he had tensed a little but had actually been okay because they were still only making out and it really was a far more comfortable position to do that in.

But then things had gotten a little heavier and Thranduil had slipped a hand inside his shirt and Bard could feel Thranduil’s hardening dick against his hips and he had frozen and gone completely rigid under Thranduil.

He had tried to force himself to get a grip and relax because Thranduil was all kinds of hot and apparently wanted him, and Bard really did want him as well, he wanted him every way possible but  _still_  Bard tensed up and got, well, not scared exactly but something similar. Which felt ridiculous becausehe  _knew_  Thranduil would never hurt him and yet he couldn’t help it.

He hated it.

“Um, I should’ve told you something.” Bard said awkwardly, and really it was pretty obvious that there was something he needed to tell Thranduil.

“Okay.” Thranduil replied kindly, squeezing Bard’s hand and giving him one of those impossibly soft looks. Really how anyone thought him cold Bard could not fathom, but then, he supposed he got to see a different side to most.

“There was a guy.” Bard started cautiously, he’d never actually told anyone exactly what had happened, he had felt so pathetic. “When I was sixteen there was a guy, well a man I guess. He was probably more than ten years older than me, that should’ve been a red flag anyway but I was an idiot teenager at the time. I was in love with him – or I thought I was anyway – and he sort of pushed me into things in bed before I was ready and he would pressure me into doing them by making sure I thought he would leave me if I didn’t.

“It got worse and I still didn’t leave because like I said I was an idiot teenager and I thought I was in love, he was very good at making me think I was in love and that he cared about me. But then one night in bed he asked for too much, I said no, and he did it anyway. That was when I realised what was happening, how he was using me and I got out. But it’s um, left some damage.”

“Oh Bard, I am so sorry.”  Thranduil said, and Bard could see in his face how sorry he really was, his smooth features creased with concern.

“Sorry, I know it’s stupid, I’m twenty-four years old for goodness sake I should be over this by now.” Bard grimaced, part of him knew he was justified, but the other half just felt so silly.

“It’s not stupid Bard don’t you dare say that, not after what that man did to you.” Thranduil insisted, Bard was glad he was keeping close, it reassured him that he wasn’t about to run off for someone who actually could have sex.

Because it was so damn frustrating because Bard did want to have sex with him. Honestly look at him anyone would want to have sex with him. But right now he just couldn’t, and it was the most frustrating thing in the world.

“Still, it has been years since I saw him last.” Bard continued, more annoyed with himself than anything else, it had been almost eight years, surely that should have been long enough.

“Doesn’t matter, you can’t put a timer on these things.” Thranduil told him, his tone soft but at the same time brokering no room for argument even as he ran his fingers through Bard’s hair. “What are you comfortable with at the moment? I don’t want to push you.”

“I like it when you kiss me. But when we get a little, um, heated, I kind of freak out. I don’t want to, I mean I want you badly but I just can’t help it.” Bard sighed, he knew he had and embarrassed blush on his cheeks, and he really didn’t want Thranduil to stop kissing him. He liked it and it would be like taking two steps back.

“Well then, we’ll just stick to kissing then won’t we.” Thranduil murmured softly, brushing a thumb over Bard’s blush and leaning in to press his lips back against Bard’s.

“Thank you.” Bard sighed, into the kiss.

“What for?” Thranduil asked, pulling back just slightly and searching Bard’s eyes, looking genuinely curious about what exactly Bard was thanking him for.

“For being patient with me.”

“If I am to make one thing clear, it is that I don’t get a prize for not pressuring you into sex, that is just being a decent human being. Understood?” Thranduil stated and Bard nodded feeling ridiculously shy. “You know if you never want to, that’s okay. I’m still not going anywhere.

“But you want to have sex.” Bard pointed out, feeling ridiculously shy and like a rubbish boyfriend.

“True. But what really matters to me is you, I’d rather have you, sex or no sex. I love you.” Thranduil said so gently and so candidly that Bard knew he was telling the truth, it was the first time either of them had said it too.

Bard smiled and threaded his hand though that silver-silk hair and pulled his perfect boyfriend in for a long, deep kiss.

“I love you too.” Bard breathed, how much he meant it, out deep he felt it clear in his kisses.

 

It took Bard a couple of years, a couple of years of them slowly moving forward, but finally he felt like he was ready. He knew that not only did he want to – he had wanted to for a long time now – but he knew that he wasn’t going to tense up, that it was going to be okay, it was all going to be okay.

But he waited one more week anyway.

It was a great wedding night.

 


	102. greaser!Bard and prep!Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> 1950's Barduil AU PLEASE Like greaser Bard and prep Thranduil Or visa versa whatever floats your boat
> 
> Rated: T

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Casual disclaimer that my knowledge of greasers and preps comes solely from Grease and my knowledge of the 1950’s is also thin so this is like an au of an au I’m sure, as well as mixing Americanisms and Briticisms, just roll with it peeps

 

“Hey, Bard!” Bard heard Thorin shout from behind him.

“Yeah?” Bard shouted back, not bothering to turn around from where he was leaning on his motorbike, watching the cheer squad warming up.

“You gunna stop ogling the skirts and come with us?”

“I think I’m fine right here.” Bard answered, they couldn’t see his smirk but they would know it was there just as Bard knew they were rolling their eyes.

“Whatever, we’re not waiting for you.” Thorin told him, and Bard flipped him off without looking as he heard their bikes roar to life as they sped off.

Truth was, as much as Bard liked a bit of skirt, that was most definitely not what, or rather who, he was watching.

It was easy enough to throw people off when he could say ‘the blonde with the legs’ and they made the assumption they always did as Bard smirked.

He wasn’t even lying.

He was there for the unbelievable blonde with the never ending legs.

Just the one in the indecently tight trousers, instead of a skirt.

Bard didn’t even know you could actually but trousers like that, made out of some obscene stretchy material that looked like it had actually been painted on his legs. And those legs just went on and on and Bard just wanted to lick his way up them.

Thranduil Oropherion, that was his name, its general posh-ness no surprise given the person it belonged to. He was the richest kid in school. Prettier than all the girls as well.

Bendier too.

Hopefully in more ways than one.

But bard had hope there, because although he obviously couldn’t just outright ask without creating more trouble for himself than he could deal with, he wasn’t the only one with lingering, wandering eyes.

Maybe not only did the posh git swing his way, but there was also a chance he fancied a bit of ruff as well.

And the thought of turning that prim and proper prep into a splayed out mess beneath him was becoming his favourite fantasy.

He would bet dark hickies would look delicious against all that ivory skin.

He was leaning on his bike on the other side of the fence, but he still managed to catch Thranduil’s eye. He held it for a second before winking. He knew Thranduil had seen because he quickly looked away.

This was a dangerous game he was playing, but he just couldn’t help himself.

Bard pushed off from his bike and ground his cigarette into the dirt, before slowly making his way over to the bleachers. He stripped out of his leather jacket and slung it over his shoulder, the bleachers were directly in the summer sun making it a little uncomfortable to wear, well, that and he knew Thranduil would be able to see his abs through his white cotton shirt.

Bard lounged back on the seats, making himself comfortable as he unabashedly watched Thranduil. He was extremely glad that he was in the cheerleading squad because not only did Bard get to watch him doing all kinds of wonderful things with those long legs and surprisingly strong muscles, but literally everyone assumed he was there to watch the girls which was one less worry Bard had in his life.

The only person who knew he came to watch Thranduil, was Thranduil. Bard knew he knew because from the moment Bard sat down there had been a red blush dusting those snowy cheeks, and occasionally, Thranduil would sneak a look at Bard and Bard would smirk back having never taken his eyes off of the blonde and the blush would darken.

He strolled out to watch the cheer-squad usually a couple times a week since school started right back in September, but never, not once, had Thranduil spoken to him. Of course it had taken Thranduil a little while to realise that Bard wasn’t looking at the girls, Bard knew when he had, since then Thranduil always looked caught someone between shy and bold.

Sometimes he looked like he was going to, but he always chickened out and scampered off. Bard would talk to him first, but he rather enjoyed making him a little nervous, besides, he really didn’t want to push Thranduil into something, that could end very badly for him.

But today felt different.

It had been happening little by little, until today Bard sensed almost no nervousness from Thranduil, no, instead he saw defiance.

When he caught Bard’s eye, instead of turning away and blushing, he winked and Bard could swear he didn’t need to bend over that much for that move.

Bard made even less pretence about his staring than usual, and if his legs were a little more open than necessary, well, that was just payback.

The practice finished and not for the first time, Thranduil lingered when the coach and all the girls were gone. Only this time, when Bard sauntered down the bleachers towards him, he didn’t run away.

Bard took up a seat right down the front, just a couple of metres from where Thranduil was finishing his completely unnecessary stretches and watched unabashed.

“Must you stare quite so obtrusively?” Thranduil asked him with a raised eyebrow as he straightened up from one of his more provocative positions.

“Must you bend quite so obscenely?” Bard threw back, smirking and letting his eyes drag, but when he got to that beautiful face, instead of a blush, there was an answering smirk waiting for him.

“And what about you Bard Bowman, do you bend?” Thranduil wondered aloud, the double meaning clear as he licked his lips.

“For you I just might.” Bard grinned wolfishly. “Wanna go for a ride?” Bard asked, flicking his head towards his bike.

“On the bike? Or will I be riding you?” Thranduil smirked, throwing all pretence out the window (not that either of them hadn’t known exactly what they were talking about).

“I think both sounds good.” Bard grinned, unable to quite believe this new side to Thranduil he was uncovering but loving it all the same.

He was becoming less and less interested in a onetime thing, but that was dangerous territory.

Thranduil gave him a hungry look in response and Bard gave a quick look around to check they were alone before getting up from the bleachers and heading back over to his bike. He didn’t need to check behind him to know that Thranduil was following.

He swung his leg over his bike and sat down, patting the spot behind him with a ridiculous eyebrow waggle that made Thranduil laugh, and wasn’t that a sound he was pretty invested in hearing again. This was very dangerous territory, and yet, Bard had no intention of stopping.

Thranduil checked around them before settling down behind Bard, moulding himself to his back which was all kinds of welcome as far as Bard was concerned. Thranduil buried his face in Bard’s neck as the bike roared to life and they tore off out the car park.

Bard had no idea where he was headed. They couldn’t go home because there were people there and it wasn’t like he knew where the Oropherion residence was or if there was family back there either, a seedy motel was incredibly unappealing and carried an element of risk as well, and just parking his bike someone and screwing in the bushes was not how he wanted this to go down.

And dammit even as Thranduil hummed and kissed at his neck while he drove he didn’t want a simple fuck.

Which is probably why they ended up at his favourite diner instead of somewhere private where they could actually do anything.

Thranduil gave him a confused look as he took in the diner, clearly not what he was expecting.

“Unless you know something I don’t, then I’m pretty sure this is not an ideal venue for anything we were discussing.” Thranduil pointed out, fixing Bard with a curious look.

“Yeah well, I’ve decided to buy you a milkshake.” Bard muttered, a little embarrassed all of a sudden.

“Wha– ” Thranduil started.

“Shut up and get in before I change my mind.” Bard grumbled.

“You can’t seriously be suggesting that you take me on a date, Bard we can’t actually date, much as I might want to.” Thranduil said, clearly going for nonchalance but some of that sadness creeping in.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Don’t be deliberately obtuse, you know why.”

“It’s not fair.” Bard griped, angry at the world because honestly he’d give just about anything to be able to take this unbelievable guy on a proper date.

“No it isn’t.” Thranduil agreed, tone melancholy.

“You know, no one needs to know. We can just, keep it to ourselves.” Bard suggested tentatively, he was more than a little reluctant to let Thranduil go if he could help it.

“Could you keep a secret like that?” Thranduil asked, genuinely curious.

“I’m inclined to look at it as keeping a lifelong secret from one less person.” Bard replied, and he was being overly optimistic maybe, but it was also true, no one except Thranduil knew about this part of him.

“If we got caught we would be in so much trouble.” Thranduil pointed out, even though he knew Bard knew that.

“Yes we would.” Bard agreed, mind made up and voice reflecting that, it would be worth it.

“Do you not care?” Thranduil asked, that genuine curiosity back, like Bard was a puzzle he couldn’t quite work out and he was loving it.

“I think you would be well worth the risk.” Bard shrugged, smiling at Thranduil who for the first time, actually did blush.

“You can’t know that yet.” Thranduil objected, but his voice was almost shy, and that was only making Bard more sure.

“Which is why I’m trying to take you on a date.” He grinned again.

“We can’t date.” Thranduil replied and Bard supposed he was right, they couldn’t, not in the traditional sense, so they’d just have to make up their own traditions as they went along.

“Sure we can. We just have to save the kissing and hand holding till we’re in private.”

“You could do that?” Thranduil asked, eyes searching.

“I’m certainly prepared to try.” Bard said firmly, the ‘ _are you?’_ Going unvoiced but clear all the same.

Bard watched Thranduil’s beautiful smooth face, completely unreadable as he waited for his answer, forcing himself not to look away nervously.

“I like strawberry milkshake.” He stated finally, flicking all that long silver-silk hair over his shoulder and turning to head inside the diner.

Bard grinned and followed him in, his ass really did look great in those trousers.

Bard stole three chips and five kisses.

He'd say it was a pretty successful date.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have such meta for after this fic, I'm such trash :')


	103. Bard is a put upon retail assistant and Thranduil is an asshole customer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> That one asshole customer that comes to the shop 5 minutes before closing. Every day.
> 
> Rated: E

 

The first time it happened, Bard was willing to let it go.

It was annoying as hell and scuppered their ability to close up on time, but sometimes people did just desperately need to grab something and happened to be cutting it close to closing time.

And okay maybe he was only being lenient and understanding when he would usually be pissed because this was one hell of a beautiful man and he really was not complaining about the view – or the fact that he was pretty sure he got checked out at one point as well – but either way, he wasn’t too annoyed.

Although when he left without even buying anything (or, more importantly, talking to Bard) it was a little irritating.  

When it happened the second time – the very next day – Bard assumed that his work must let out close to their closing time and he’d remembered whatever it was he had come in for the previous day.

And if he was being honest he was more than a little glad to see the beautiful man again, all kinds of possibilities flying through his mind as he saw the blonde looking at him again and was only met by a challenging smirk when he caught him doing it.

But then, after plenty of browsing, the guy left again, without buying anything.

The third day of the week Bard wasn’t on shift, but Bilbo sent him a snap of the guy with the caption ‘unfucking believable’, although apparently he barely staying two minutes that time.

On the fourth day, Bard was convinced this guy – however pretty he was – was an asshole whose sole function in life was to make overworked-underpaid shop workers’ lives harder.

But unfortunately, Bard needs his job, and can’t afford to yell at customers, so he didn’t have a go and just let the unfairly beautiful man get on with whatever it was he was doing before finally leaving.

By Friday however, this had been going on for almost seven days and frankly Bard had had enough. He’d told Kili to get going or he was going to be late for his date, which meant Bard would be closing up alone so it was going to take longer anyway, and that blonde fucker had literally just walked in, one minute before closing and was browsing the sodding scarves.

Bard had kids to get back to.

He was too old for this shit.

“Okay, seriously, what are you _doing_? Do you enjoy making life harder for us to close up?” Bard demanded as he marched over to the man, finally at the end of his tether.

The man only smirked as Bard spoke, turning round and letting his eyes fall to Bard’s nametag and drag up to his face in a way that was somehow the hottest thing to happen to Bard in a very very long time (okay that wasn’t really actually saying much, but still, the way he was looking at Bard was just _hungry_ ).

“Bard.” The man said slowly, rolling the name around on his tongue like he was trying to taste it. “I’m Thranduil.”

“How lovely for you. Now can you please leave?” Bard asked exasperated, and doing his very best not to think about how nice his name had sounded coming from his lips.

“I’ve waited all week for you to speak to me and now it’s only to tell me to leave.” The man – Thranduil – practically pouted, and what was he talking about?  

“What?” Bard said, confusion lacing his tone, it had been a long shift.

“You heard.” He smirked, icy blue eyes dragging their way up Bard as if they were trying to undress him right there, and to be honest, Bard would definitely not be opposed to the idea.

“You mean you’ve been coming in here just before closing every day in the hope I would come over a talk to you?” He was pretty sure that was what he was getting at, but it was a little unbelievable given that this guy would probably make Aphrodite weep.

“Ah, got it in one, well done.” He winked, and Bard could hardly draw his eyes away from those pouty red lips.

“Um, why?” Bard asked, shaking himself out of it.

“Presumably you do own a mirror.” He replied, Bard just continued to look confused until Thranduil sighed. “I think you’re hot. I wanted you to talk to me because I think you are unfairly attractive.” He spoke teasingly slowly, as if he was talking to a child.

“And you thought annoying me by messing up closing time was the way to do that?” Bard asked exasperated.

“Well, it wasn’t ideal, but it had resulted in me and you being alone and unlikely to be interrupted, so I can’t say I think it was a total failure.” He answered, eyes hungry.

“Wha– ” Before Bard could finish, there was a lush set of red lips on his and all thought promptly left his brain.

Thranduil’s lips were soft and demanding and insistent against his, and he made the most delightful noise as Bard fisted his hands in his shirt and pressed his tongue into his mouth, stroking along Thranduil’s tongue. After a few moments Bard nipped his bottom lips and broke the kiss, to which Thranduil made an adorable noise of protest and tried to get him back immediately.

“You’re a real asshole you know that.” Bard glared, but there was no heat in it, and Thranduil realised that easily, smirking at him once again.

“It has been said before.”

“You’re used to getting what you want aren’t you.”

“Indeed I am.”

“You know that alone makes it pretty tempting for me to just leave you hanging.” Bard threatened, and Thranduil made a desperate little noise of protest. “In fact I bet you’d beg me to stay.” Bard added, voice dropping low and rough, pulling Thranduil closer again.

“Oh yes, on my knees.” Thranduil teased, or at least, Bard _thought_ he was teasing, but then the fucker actually did drop to his knees right there and then and was looking up at him through long lashes and was just so fucking pretty. “Would you like a demonstration?” He asked, voice all fake innocence and Bard groaned.

“Christ, you’re gunna kill me.”

“Le petite mort.” Thranduil practically purred from his knees before his fingers started toying at the button on his trousers and then he was mouthing at his rapidly hardening cock through his trousers and apparently bard’s life had become a porn film and this was actually happening.

“Fuck, not here.” Bard groaned, tugging Thranduil up and kissing him.

He really did not want Thranduil to stop, however, he also didn’t want their romp caught on security cameras even if it was going to be obvious what they were disappearing off to do – Dwalin would _never_ let him hear the end of it.

“Come on.” He said, voice rough as he grabbed Thranduil’s hand and tugged him in the direction of the changing rooms.

“Changing rooms?” Thranduil asked with a raised eyebrow.

“They’re the only place without security cameras.” Bard explained, “So unless you want all of this caught on film then you better get in.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be adverse to it.” He winked and he really was actually going to kill Bard.

“Why am I not surprised.” Bard commented and Thranduil had that infuriating smirk on his lips again and then Bard was being yanked into the changing room and the door slammed behind them and Thranduil was on his knees again nuzzling at his crotch and all coherent thought promptly left his brain.

“God, I’ve wanted to get on my knees for you the moment I saw you.” Thranduil breathed, elegant fingers unbuckling Bard’s belt and proving that apparently people did actually say that outside of porn, or at least, Thranduil did.

He apparently meant it too because he now had Bard’s trousers open and was mouthing wetly at Bard through the cotton of his underwear.

“Fuck.” Bard groaned, burying a hand in Thranduil’s hair and letting his head fall back against the wall, he could literally feel the bastard smirk.

Thranduil tugged his underwear down until his very interested and very hard cock came free. He licked a stripe all the way from base to tip before taking Bard all the way down his throat without preamble. Bard tried to ignore the completely unfair wave of jealously that came over him wondering where he learnt to do that, which wasn’t that hard considering there was a very talented mouth around him.

And Thranduil was doing _things_ with his tongue and at this rate Bard wasn’t going to last much longer than a horny teenager, which frankly was exactly how they were behaving, so maybe it would be fitting.

“If you, keep, doing that, this is not, going to, take long.” Bard panted out as Thranduil lapped at the head before sinking back down on him and the feeling of his throat around him was quickly becoming his favourite sensation in the whole world.

“Mmm, we can’t have that. I’m not nearly done with you yet.” Thranduil pulled off and smirked from his knees before licking down Bard’s length and sucking on his balls and making Bard moan a little desperately.

Thranduil trailed open mouthed kisses back up Bard’s shaft, pushing his shirt out of the way as he reached his stomach before standing up and deciding drag it over Bard’s head so that he could just discard it completely. Thranduil drank him in hungrily, and Bard laced his hand back through that silver-silk hair and brought him in for a fierce kiss, thinking it was time for a change in control and successfully leaving Thranduil whimpering as he bit on his lip and tugged on his hair.

“What do you want?” Bard murmured, turning his attention to Thranduil’s neck who promptly bared his throat further for Bard’s biting mouth. At this point he would probably do whatever Thranduil asked of him. 

Thranduil made a delicious little whining noise as Bard sucked a bruise into his collarbone, pushing his jacket off his shoulders and shoving his shirt out of the way for access. A few moments later, just as he was about to repeat his question, something was being pressed into his hand.

“Came prepared did you?” Bard teased with a raised eyebrow at Thranduil, who had just handed him a small tube of lube and a condom.

“I know what I want.” Thranduil replied, mischief and defiance sparkling in his eyes and making Bard drag him back in to kiss that infuriating smirk off his face.

Bard moved along his pale throat, dragging his lips as he went before biting at his earlobe, getting himself another of those delicious little whimpers while he undid and pushed at Thranduil’s trousers before teasing at him through his tight boxer briefs.

He wasn’t sure what the best way to do this was, it wasn’t like bard made a habit of having sex in random places, or really at all these day, single father with three kids tended to ensure that. But still, he decided to just roll with it, after all, he was pretty sure Thranduil wouldn’t hesitate to say if something wasn’t to his exacting standards.

Bard bit down on that smooth neck again, and when Thranduil whimpered a little desperately, bucking into his teasing hand, Bard growled and spun him, pushing him against the mirrored wall (wasn’t that providing a wonderful view) and plastering his own chest against his back, shoving at his underwear and squeezing his lush bottom.

“Please.” Thranduil gasped as Bard laid sucking kisses into his neck and started to toy with his hole.

“Patience.” He murmured grinning and nipping at his ear – which was apparently particularly sensitive if Thranduil’s helpless little noises were any indication.

Bard slicked up his fingers and went back to teasing his fingers around Thranduil’s rim, getting the other man pushing back against him a little desperately before finally pressing one in slowly. Bard pumped his finger gently, kissing at the newly found sensitive spot behind Thranduil’s ear and adding a second finger which had a drawn out moan falling from Thranduil’s lips.

“Okay?” Bard checked as he started scissoring Thranduil open, stretching him carefully.

“Not if you don’t _hurry up_.” Thranduil bitched back, but the effect was lost as is came out breathily between pants, it just made Bard chuckle into his neck and push in a third finger alongside the other two.

Thranduil moaned freely as Bard fingered him, and bard got the distinct feeling that he would very much like to do this for _hours_ one day, have him spread out in bed and keep going until Thranduil was a writhing, panting, moaning mess and making him come just on his fingers. But another time, right now Bard wanted nothing more than to sink into that tight heat that felt so good around his fingers he could hardly imagine what it would feel like around his cock.

He pulled out his fingers and Thranduil cried out, needily pushing his ass back. Bard grinned into where he was now kissing Thranduil’s shoulder, landing a playful slap against his ass before tearing open the condom packet, rolling it down his cock and slicking himself up.

“Still okay?” Bard checked again as he lined himself up against Thranduil’s stretched hole.

“Do you really need to ask?” Thranduil replied, a half moan as Bard looped a hand around his chest and brushed over his peaked nipples.

“No, but I like to check.” Bard murmured before pushing forward and sinking into Thranduil’s perfect heat and silencing any more coherent sentences from either of them.

Bard gave him a couple of moments to adjust, before starting to fuck into him in earnest. Thranduil let out a constant stream of whimpers and wines and moans with every thrust of Bard’s hips, snapping against that perfect arse and latching his mouth back onto Thranduil’s already marked up neck.

Bard briefly considered taking his time, he desperately wanted to take his time until Thranduil was wanton and begging (more so than he already was), but their position and location weren’t really conducive to taking his time. Well, that and the fact that Bard himself was more than a little bit desperate as well at this point (in his defence it had been a while).

“Next time.” Bard growled into his ear, biting on the lobe and getting a loud moan as he slammed into Thranduil particularly hard. “I will have you spread out on my bed and begging for hours.”

“I will hold you to that.” Thranduil panted and Bard could see his smirk in the mirror, the challenging glint alive in his eyes despite the way he was moaning.   

Bard grinned in response and caught his eye in the mirror before changing his angle slightly and nailing Thranduil’s sweet spot, making him cry out. Bard kept up the brutal pace of his hips, and it wasn’t long before he felt himself getting close. He looped an arm around Thranduil’s chest and snaked his hand down his ivory skin until he was wrapping a hand around his hard cock and starting to stroke him in time with his thrusts.

“ _Ah,_ Bard, ‘m close.” Thranduil whimpered out, Bard grunted in response, hopefully communicating that Thranduil wasn’t the only one.

It was just four more, hard, deep thrusts and Thranduil was coming hard, painting the mirroring in front of them with his release, moaning freely. His already tight channel was squeezing even more around Bard as his muscles clenched with his orgasm, successful dragging Bard over the edge with him, empting into the condom.

Bard kept his arms tucked under Thranduil’s, which was a very good thing given that the blonde would have crumpled to the floor otherwise, in reality Bard had absolutely no idea how he managed to support himself let alone Thranduil as well. But somehow he did and eventually their breathing returned to normal and Thranduil started to support himself on his own two legs.

Thranduil took all of his own weight and slowly turned in the circle of Bard’s arms, infuriating smirk firmly back in place on that beautiful face, aimed right at Bard.

“Was that up to your high standards?” Bard asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Very much so, in fact, I think you’ve set my standards even higher after that. I will never accept less again.”

“A lot of pressure for your future conquests.” Bard grinned, playful but also a little smug (honestly who wouldn’t be).

“Indeed it is. I doubt their ability to even compare.” Thranduil teased back, just as playful.

“Now that is a dilemma.”

“Isn’t it just. I think I may have a solution though.”

“Oh?” Bard asked, feigning innocence, and hoping he knew exactly what Thranduil was going to suggest.

“Yes, and I believed it involved something about being spread out on your bed and begging for hours.”

“I do remember saying something along those lines.” Bard agreed, unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face, he wasn’t too worried though, Thranduil had the same stupid look on his face.

“After all, why waste my time with people who can’t possibly compare when I could just be being spread out by you.”

“Make sense.”

“It’s only logical.”

“Exactly, only logical.”

They grinned at each other and started laughing at themselves, pulling each other into smiling kisses.

“No but seriously give me your number.” Thranduil demanded between messy kisses, Bard snorted, as if he wouldn’t at this point.

Bard took him out for dinner two days later.

Two years later he proposed in a changing cubicle that held some very enjoyable memories.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH SWEET LORD MY EXAMS FINISHED THIS AFTERNOON I AM FREEEEEEE
> 
> (sorry for disappearing on you all like that! But I needed not to get booted out of uni)
> 
> But anyway, I am back and back to regular programming again!! 
> 
> I MISSED YOU GUYS <3


	104. Bard proposes and Thranduil is confused

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> okay okay listen so you know that thing where sex = marriage for elves  
> now imagine that one day bard, unaware of that fact, finally decides to ask thranduil to marry him - and so he does, under the stars, with candles, on one knee and all that jazz - and thranduil thinks it’s lovely, really, but bard, we are married already  
> [(link)](http://elfandbowman.tumblr.com/post/118632247630/okay-okay-listen-so-you-know-that-thing-where-sex)
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard had been planning this for weeks, he had every tiny detail planned out perfectly. Unbeknownst to Thranduil they were on their way their already.

Well, he knew where they were going but he didn’t know what was waiting for him there. There being their favourite place in the whole forest, a little oasis somehow untouched by the darkness in the forest, a clearing in the trees where you could see the stars shining brightly and hear the softness of the breeze in the leaves.  

But Bard had set up something rather special before coming to get Thranduil and bringing him out here today.

All around the clearing he had set up small candles in softly coloured lanterns and spread them around their oasis, casting the perfect amount of gentle light on the area. And there were strawberries and chocolate and Thranduil’s favourite vintage of wine waiting for them on the blanket spread out on the floor.

And most importantly of all there was the ring that Bard had forged himself sat in a hand-craver box his pocket.

It was all very cliché but Bard just couldn’t help himself.

He wanted it to be perfect.   

He also wanted it to be a surprise which was why he was focusing so hard on acting natural which in itself was making him appear rather unnatural as he was over thinking everything.

Well, that and the fact that he was really fucking nervous.

He couldn’t help it, it wasn’t every day that you planned on proposing to the Elvenking. And no matter how perfect their relationship seemed, how wonderful everything was, that didn’t actually mean he was guaranteed a yes.

He was fairly sure Thranduil wasn’t going to say know, honestly, at this point they were practically married in every way but literally anyway. They lived together, moving between their kingdoms together, they took holidays together, Bard’s kids called Thranduil ada and Legolas had jokingly called him da a couple of times (which was both weird and wonderful as he was an awful lot older than Bard, not that he looked it, bloody elves).

They also had a _lot_ of sex.

It had taken them a while to get to that stage. It had taken them a while to get to any stage, and Bard wasn’t blind to why. This relationship was only going to have one conclusion, but they were both very good at ignoring that at the moment, even if it couldn’t last forever.

But anyway, the relationship had been both slow and fast in its origins. Bard had felt something from the first moment he met Thranduil, and he later learnt that he wasn’t the only one. But it had taken a while for either of them to do anything, long diplomatic meetings that lead into even longer evenings over wine by the fireplace.

And even when they had got there it had been tentative, ‘baby steps’ Sigrid had teased when Bard had come home completely giddy from their first kiss.

But they both knew why they were being so tentative. They had both felt the deep pain of loss before. And if they went down this road, Thranduil was going to again.

Yet here they were, and Bard was so happy every single day that he was pretty sure it must be some kind of trick.

But it wasn’t, and he was going to propose and he really hoped Thranduil was going to say yes.

Of course that didn’t mean a yes was guaranteed. In fact just sat there on the back of his horse heading for the clearing just off the top of his head, Bard could think of twenty good reasons while Thranduil could say no.

Oh shit what if he said no?!

Okay Bard was freaking himself out.

He needed to get a grip.

“Bard are you okay?” Thranduil asked, concern lacing his tone, eyes flicking between Bard’s no doubt odd expression and his hands. Which Bard now realised were holding onto the reigns so tight that his knuckles had gone white.

“Fine.” Bard reassured, throwing Thranduil a smile, but he didn’t look convinced, concern still creasing his brow slightly. “Honestly Thran I’m fine, just got a little lost in my head is all.” Bard said, reaching over to squeeze Thranduil’s hand and nearly falling off his horse as he did so. Thranduil steadied him easily and gave him an amused look, the corners of his lips quirking up.

“Try not to fall meleth nín, Tauriel will never let us leave without an escort again if I bring you back damaged.” Thranduil teased.

“She worries far too much.” Bard grumbled, a little embarrassed.

Tauriel had been an interesting situation, of course Thranduil had retracted her banishment, but with everything that had happened she was not keen to go back anyway, but she didn’t really want to leave either, not completely anyway. She had also become very fond of Bard’s children somewhere along the way as well. Thus why she was now the captain of Bard’s guard instead of Thranduil’s.

“I don’t know, It always used to give me great comfort to know that when I wasn’t with you she was more than capable of keeping you safe.” Thranduil replied.

“You both worry too much.”

“Maybe, but you are just a fragile mortal.” Thranduil teased and Bard snorted.

“I think you’ll find that _I_ am a Dragonslayer actually.  Not even remotely fragile.” Bard grinned back, it was certainly one of Thranduil’s favourite names for him, especially when they were getting a little rough with their coupling.

“Indeed you are.” Thranduil leered, making Bard roll his eyes fondly.

“Stop it you.” He chided lightly, but there was only affection in his tone and a smile on his lips.

It only took another few minutes for them to get close to the clearing, Bard insisting that they leave their mounts (not horses because Thranduil’s elk was apparently not just for strutting around during battle) a little way away, they both knew neither Bard’s horse nor Thranduil’s elk were going to go anywhere without them.

Bard took Thranduil’s hand and lead him gently towards the clearing. He heard Thranduil’s slightly heightened inhale when the clearing came into view just as he felt the slight squeeze on his hand. It was dark by now, so the effect was as beautiful as Bard had hoped it would be, the area bathed in soft colours from the lanterns, the blanket and small picnic basket that held the wine and strawberries looking very inviting.

Thranduil turned his smile on him and kissed him long and deep before releasing him and gliding over to the blanket, sitting down and draping out his impossibly elegant limbs over the blanket and looking up at Bard, who was just stood watching him with a dopey smile on his face.

“This is very romantic.” Thranduil pointed out, looking very pleased about the fact. “Any particular occasion?”

“Do I need an occasion to spoil you?” Bard asked, sitting down next to him and pressing a kiss to Thranduil’s smiling rosy red lips.

“No.” Thranduil agreed kissing Bard again.

When they parted Bard pulled out the strawberries and chocolate and wine and blushed as he did, knowing full well what a sap he was being.

“Although I am now suspicious.” Thranduil teased again, he stopped when Bard started hand feeding him chocolate covered strawberries.

Later in the evening the strawberries were finished and they were lying together looking up at the stars, sipping at their wine, Thranduil telling him all sorts of beautiful things about the stars while Bard gradually built up the courage to finally ask him.

It only took him another hour.

“Thran.”

“Yes?”

“There was something I wanted to ask you…” Bard started, and he sat up and turned to face Thranduil properly, Thranduil sitting up with him and looking at him quizzically as Bard propped himself up on one knee.

He thought at this point it should be obvious what he was going to ask, but he supposed one knee was probably just a custom among the race of men not elves, which would explain the curious expression on Thranduil’s face.

“There was something behind all this.” He smiled softly gesturing around them, then Bard took a deep breath and pulled the ring out of his pocket, opening the box. “Will you marry me?”

Bard then held his breath as he waited for an answer.

Thranduil looked both confused and impossibly affectionate.

“I’m a little confused melinden.”Thranduil answered, and if it wasn’t for the pure look of love he was sending Bard he would be panicking, and he was already panicking a little bit.

“Um, is that a no?” Bard asked tentatively, biting at his lip nervously.

“This is lovely and beautiful and wonderful and I love you so much, but” Thranduil started, and oh shit a but that was never ever good in this kind of scenario. “But we are already married meleth nín.”

Wait, what?

Surely that was the kind of thing Bard would remember.

There was no way he would forget marrying Thranduil.

“Um, what? I’m pretty sure I’d remember that.”

“I will be quite offended if you do not.” He chuckled, Bard just continued to look confused. “It was the best night of my life. Well, our performances in the bedroom are of a consistently high quality, but given the significance that night remains my favourite.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Our first night together.”

“Of course I remember _that_.” Bard replied, as if he would ever forget, but unsure why they were talking about it.

“Then what is the confusion?”

“Well, now I want to marry you. I’ve wanted to marry you for a very long time but I only just found the courage to do so.”

“But we are already married…you do know that by lying together we are married under elven law, don’t you?” Thranduil asked, a thread of realisation dawning on his features.

“…no, I did not know that.”

“Really? I assumed you did, you were incredibly tender that night. You couldn’t stop tell me you loved me.”

“Because it was out first time, not because I knew we were getting married! And I haven’t been able to stop tell you that I love you since we first said it.”

“Oh, I am sorry my love, had I known I would have told you of course. Forgive me.” Thranduil implored, worry covering his features, like he really thought Bard was upset, when how could he be? He loved him far too much for this to upset him, even if he would rather have known, it was an innocent miscommunication, apparently they were still getting to grips with each other’s cultures.

“Oh Thran, there is nothing to forgive.” He reassured, drawing Thranduil into a long, slow kiss. “At least I know you would have said yes.” Bard added with a yes.

“Yes, of course I am saying yes, a thousand times yes.” Thranduil smiled, and he pulled back to hold out his hand for Bard to slip the ring onto his finger.

“I am glad.” Bard smiled, which didn’t even nearly cover it as he slipped the ring onto Thranduil’s elegant finger. “But it is a little surplus at this point.” He teased, kissing Thranduil again.

“Not at all, we’ve done it my way, now let’s do it your way.” Thranduil stated.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean how do men usually formalise a union?”

“With a wedding, where we join in matrimony, then there is usually a party afterwards with all friends and family to celebrate.”

“Now that does sound like fun, we are definitely doing it your way too.” Thranduil said excitedly, no doubt already planning the party of the age in his head.

“I don’t know, I think I prefer your way.” Bard teased, playfully rolling them until Thranduil was underneath him and landing a filthy kiss on his lips.

“Which is why we should definitely do both.” Thranduil smirked, nipping on Bard’s bottom lip.

“Agreed.”

They renewed their elven vows a few times that evening.


	105. thranduil is feeling a little insecure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Ok so I've read ALL of your Barduil ficlets. I would really love to see one where Thuranduil is the one who is insecure and unsure of why Bard loves him. Not Bard second guessing the relationship. 
> 
> Rated: G

 

It had been precisely nine weeks and three days since Bard had kissed him for the very first time, not that he was still obsessing over it.

(He was most definitely still obsessing over it).

Bard had just done it so easily, they had been enjoying some wine in the evening in his little house in Dale, Thranduil had laughed at one of Bard’s amusing anecdotes about his life in Laketown and then Bard was smiling at him and before he knew it Bard’s lips had been on his.

And then it had happened the next day as well, and the next, and the next, and it just became normal for Bard to do it because they were…them.

Bard was just so free with his affection, never hesitating to kiss him or hold his hand and pull him into a hug and Thranduil wasn’t used to it. He loved it, but he wasn’t used to it.

Thranduil never initiated it, not because he didn’t want to, but because he was a little confused.

Thranduil had never been shy, in all of his years on arda shy had never been and apt adjective when describing him, and it wasn’t even really shyness now. It was almost insecurity. No, that was exactly what it was.

And there was another word that could never have been used about him before, and it was just because he didn’t quite understand.

Because Thranduil knew he was beautiful, he was well aware of the way he looked and he had often used that to his advantage in the past. But he was also well aware that Bard did not care about the way people looked. He called Thranduil beautiful (and never before had that compliment made him blush, but it was just so _sincere_ when it came from Bard) but Thranduil knew for a fact that Thranduil could be unable to hide his scars and Bard would still kiss him, he could be completely unattractive and it wouldn’t matter to Bard.

And that confused Thranduil.

Because take away his beauty and what was he really?

Cold, selfish, impossibly old, static in his ways, vain, manipulative, and broken.

That was what he was.

Then there was _Bard_ , Bard who was so kind and warm and generous. Bard who was so heart stoppingly handsome, Bard who was a _Dragonslayer_ , Bard who didn’t just inherit his title as king, he earnt it. Bard who put his children before everything and everyone, Bard who only ever thought of himself as an afterthought. Bard who had never and would never coil away from his scars, Bard who was clever and brave and secretly mischievous and just so incredibly _genuine_.

And Thranduil couldn’t understand what it was that Bard saw in him that could possibly be worthy of him.   

Bard wanted to spend his entire life on arda with Thranduil, he could hardly fathom what such a short forever was like and how you could possibly decide to spend such a short time on just one person. Time was the most precious thing Bard had and he wanted to spend it on Thranduil.

And he believed with his whole heart that that was what Bard wanted to do, because Bard was good, he wasn’t deceitful or manipulative and he had made his intentions clear and he wanted Thranduil, and Thranduil wanted him back, he wanted him fiercely so he would never and could never reject his affection.

But still, he didn’t understand what it was Bard saw in him, and that made him insecure.

Thranduil was pondering on all of this, lost in all his thoughts as he often was, when Bard nudged him gently.

“You okay darlin’? You looked a little lost for a moment there.” He smiled softly, thumb stroking gently over Thranduil’s cheek before ducking down to kiss him lightly when Thranduil nodded.

Bard was bustling about in his tiny kitchen in Dale as he put together dinner for them all when the kids got back from wherever Tauriel had whisked them off to. Cooking was yet another thing that Bard could do and Thranduil had never had to learn to do. He had no idea what he brought to this relationship.

“You sure? You look a little distant.” Bard pressed gently as he juggled around with pots and pans, Thranduil wished he could be somehow useful.

Thranduil smiled at him to try and reassured him, and while Bard didn’t exactly look convinced he didn’t push either, dropping another kiss on Thranduil’s cheek and going back to his cooking. Thranduil watched him for another ten minutes before he couldn’t hold in his question anymore.

“Why do you like me?” He asked suddenly and Bard shot him a puzzled look before he saw the genuinely confusion on Thranduil’s face and put down what he was doing so he could turn all his attention on their conversation.

“What do you mean?” He queried gently, sitting on the chair next to Thranduil, turning it to face him and knocking their knees together playfully when he sat.

“I just don’t understand.” Thranduil replied, which was not very articulate at all.

“You’re going to have to elaborate.” Bard smiled softly, leaning forward and taking Thranduil’s hand from where it was picking nervously at his clothes, he’d never had a nervous habit before.

“I mean I don’t understand why you like me. Honestly what am I? ‘The ice king’ that’s what people call me when they think I can’t hear, I never cared before. I am so old and trapped in my ways and I am selfish and cold and vain and I am manipulative and I am more than a little bit broken and I just don’t understand why you would want me.” Thranduil explained, unable to make eye contact anymore, but Bard caught his chin gently and coaxed him into looking at him again and he quickly lost himself in those beautiful eyes, a mixture of green and hazel that were looking at him with concern.

“Is that truly how you see yourself?” Bard asked, voice sounding a little distressed by the idea, Thranduil nodded slightly. “Well with all due respect your majesty, you are completely wrong.” Bard told him, voice firm, and Thranduil shook his head this time.

“No, I am. It never mattered to me before, but now...”

“No. You are wrong. I don’t know if you were these things once but you have never been them to me, not once. You can’t call yourself cold when I have seen you playing with Tilda, you can’t call yourself ice when I know how soft you go in my arms. As for selfish, the first time I ever met you you were bringing supplies that saved my people without any gain for yourself, we would be dead without your generosity. And I have seen how much you care for your people, how ferociously you would defend them. You call yourself manipulative but you have never lied to me and I don’t believe you ever will.

“How can you be trapped in your ways when you let me in so easily? When you made room for me and my children in your heart and you turned us into your family, that is not the action of someone trapped in their ways. And you are _not_ broken. You have scars, you’ve lived though some horrific things and you kept going. That doesn’t make you broken that makes you strong.” Bard stated, voice so firm and feeling Thranduil felt like he might cry, which was something he had not done in a very long time.

“Is that truly how you see me?” Thranduil asked, voice wavering and barely above a whisper.

“Thran, that is what you _are_.” Bard insisted, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips and Thranduil found himself believing him, because Bard did not lie. “You are the most amazing person I have ever met.” Bard breathed against his lips.

“Have you met yourself?” Thranduil asked and at his teasing tone Bard huffed out a laugh, Thranduil smiled and pulled him in for another kiss.

 

 


	106. Florist!Bard and Tattooist!Thran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Tattoo artist/Florist au!!! (Florist Bard and Tattoo artist Thranduil)
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Da!” Tilda shrieked happily as she bounded into the flower shop, Bard scooping her up as she jumped at him.

“Hello munchkin, how was school?” Bard asked, placing a big kiss on her cheek and making her giggle.

He popped her down on the counter, smiling as she chattered happily about her day and turning his smile on Bain and Sigrid as they came in at a far gentler pace than Tilda had.

Sigrid grinned at him and tied her hair back, wasting no time before starting some of the arrangements while Bain dragged his feet a little but Bard knew that his son actually apparently had a great eye for colour and secretly loved coming up with new combinations.

Usually Bard’s dear old neighbour Hilda was able to look after them for a couple of hours after school, not that Sigrid really needed it anymore, but on Friday’s she had still ran a karate class down at the youth centre so the kids came and join him at the shop until closing and earned their pocket money.

Bard loved his flower shop, loved that in the last few years not only had he finally managed to start his own business and be free from working for the master, but he was actually doing well. They were never going to be swimming in money of course, but they had a kind of stability that they never had before and Bard’s hair had stopped going grey at the thought of the next meal.

“Da!” Tilda shouted happily from her perch on one of the counters after a little while, Bard finished serving his current customer and turned his attention back to his youngest.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled when you were busy.” She mumbled apologetically, Bard smiled and ruffled her hair.

“It’s okay chicken, what is it?” He asked, wondering what had gotten her so excited in the first place.

“Made you something.” She beamed.

“Oh? What is it?”

“You have to close your eyes.” Tilda instructed and Bard complied happily, he felt her put something in his hair. “Okay you can open them now.”

Bard opened his eyes and looked up to catch his reflection in one of the mirrors, seeing the simple but surprisingly neat crown made from a line of daisies sat in his hair.

“Do you like it?” Tilda asked, chewing her lip nervously. “Sigrid has been teaching me.”

“I love it.” Bard told her honestly, booping a kiss on the end of her nose and making her light up with one of her bright smiles just as the bells on the door chimed to let him know there was a new customer.

When he turned around to greet the new customer Bard’s throat promptly dried up upon seeing him.

That was a very beautiful man, and not just any beautiful man. But the beautiful man who ran the tattoo parlour just across the hallway – mallway? – not that Bard had been staring…much.

Thing is, it was pretty hard _not_ to stare, he was a seriously eye catching man. There was this waterfall of impossible silver-silk hair that never had a hair out of place, piercing blue eyes framed by dark eyebrows, long (obscenely long) legs, bone structure that you could probably cut yourself on, and perfectly pouty lips.

And although you couldn’t see them today because Thranduil was wearing a stylishly long cardigan draped around him, but Bard knew that there were beautiful tattoos lacing up his arms like branches.

Bard’s friend Bilbo who ran the bakery next door had done some reconnaissance and discovered that his name was Thranduil and he was tauntingly single. In return Bard had done some investigating of his own and found out the name of the blacksmith (Bard hadn’t even realised they still existed) a few doors down for Bilbo.

He was also ridiculously graceful in his every movement, as he was proving right now as he practically glided towards the counter. 

Oh crap.

Bard was definitely staring with his mouth slightly agape. He probably looked like some kind of surprised fish.

“I was hoping you could help me with something.” Thranduil started, and god his voice was unfairly deep and rich.

“Oh?” Bard replied, surprised his voice was so steady.

“Yes, I was wondering if you could put together an arrangement of wildflowers, I always find it easier to work from a visual.” Thranduil explained.

“New tattoo design? Don’t the customers usually bring in a picture for you to work from?” Bard asked as he set about gathering the flowers from their various displays.

“Usually, but given that this one is for myself...” Thranduil trailed off with a smirk.

“You mean you’re going to tattoo yourself?” Bard asked with a fair amount of disbelief, he must have misunderstood.

“It’s not like I would trust anyone else to do it.” Thranduil teased, well, teased Bard, otherwise he seemed completely serious about doing it to himself.

“How does that even work?” Bard questioned in disbelief.

“With a great deal of self-control.” Thranduil told him, which didn’t actually explain it at all, Bard about to try to get a real explanation, especially since Thranduil seemed to be somewhat teasing him into a conversation about it, but before he could a little voice piped up.

“Excuse me mister.” Came Tilda’s voice, at some point she had jumped down from the counter and wandered around to where she was now tugging gently on Thranduil’s sleeve.

“And how can I help you miss?” Thranduil asked, face going so soft as he crouched down to talk to his daughter that Bard’s heart melted a little bit.

“Your hair is very pretty.”

“Thank you very much…?” Thranduil trailed off in question, clearly hoping for a name.

“Tilda.” She supplied helpfully, beaming when a hand was offered to her to shake.

“Hello miss Tilda, I’m Thranduil.” Thranduil introduced himself and if he carried on being this wonderful with his daughter then Bard pathetic crush was going to get even worse.

“Are you buying some flowers?” She asked, ever curious, she was only seven, Bard hoped with all his heart she never lost that curiosity.

“I certainly am, your dad was just collecting me some wild flowers.” Thranduil told her, throwing Bard a soft smile where he was almost done arranging them.

“Are they your favourite?”

“They certainly are, do you have a favourite flower?”

“I like the blue ones.” Tilda said, unable to say their real name and pointing to one of the displays.

“I shall remember that.” Thranduil said, and honestly, Bard believed it.

Bard cleared his throat gently to present Thranduil with the flowers (which he may or may not have taken special care with) holding them out for him.

“Is that the sort of thing you wanted?” Bard asked as Thranduil took them, trying not to blush as Thranduil dragged his finger’s over Bard’s as he took them in a way that was most definitely deliberate.

“Perfect, I shall come back with the result tomorrow.” He smirked, and Bard was glad, otherwise he probably would have gone over there tomorrow to look for himself anyway.

“I look forward to it.” Bard returned as Thranduil paid for the flowers, matching Thranduil’s smirk with a playful one of his own, unashamedly watching Thranduil as he left (he couldn’t be blamed, that was an amazing rear).

“Oh, and Bard.” Thranduil began, turning when he reached the door and looking smug as he caught Bard watching.

“Yeah?”

“Love the crown.” Thranduil added and with a cheeky smirk and a wink, he was gone.

Bard got the feeling he actually had liked the crown as well, no matter how teasing his tone might be.

“Did he really like the crown da?” Tilda asked, pride evident in her tone.

“Do you know darlin’, I think he did.” Bard smiled, helping her to sit back up on the counter, she liked to be able to see everything.

“I think he liked you too.” Tilda told him, a thoughtful look on her face. “Siggy! Bain!” She called suddenly and Sigrid came out from the backroom with Bain.

“Yeah Til?”

“Do you think the pretty tattoo man Thranduil likes da?”

“Sig and Bain weren’t even out here.” Bard protested.

“They were spying from the corner.” Tilda informed him, and of course they were.

“Yeah we were, and yes he was da.” Bain agreed with his little sister, making her smile at him.

“Even if I was interested I can’t really be sure he is. I wouldn’t want to make him uncomfortable.” Bard reasoned, the endorsement of a seven year old, a thirteen year old and a sixteen year old while supportive was not exactly conclusive.

“Oh please da you’ve been drooling for weeks and he was practically undressing you with his eyes.” Sigrid snorted, making Bain wrinkle up his face is moderate disgust and Tilda scrunch hers up in puzzlement.

“Sig!” Bard complained, a mixture of embarrassed and horrified that his little girl had just said that, even if she wasn’t so little any more.

“What! You know it’s true! Besides you’ve been on your own for way too long, you should go for it.” She insisted, and well, she may have a point.

“Maybe.” Bard relented a little, mainly because he really did want to give it a try.

“No not maybe, yes.” Sigrid told him, voice firm and sounding startlingly like her mother, he missed her.

“I agreed with Sigs. You officially have our blessing.” Bain assured him, and although it was done jokingly, it really did matter to Bard, he’d never try to bring someone new into their lives if they didn’t approve.

“Thank you guys.” Bard smiled at them, and a few moments later Tilda finally piped up.

“Why would Thranduil want to undress you with his eyes?” She asked, all innocent curiosity. Bard glared at his sniggering eldest, and then Bain when he joined in, even if he also looked a little nauseous.

“No reason munchkin, it was just a silly comment.” He assured, Tilda didn’t look satisfied but she thankfully let it drop.

Unfortunately Bard’s glaring had long since stopped working on any of his children. Serves him right for being such a softie.

 

The next day Thranduil didn’t come into the shop until just before closing, which did make sense, it had been busy.

“So, did you do it?” Bard asked, grinning as Thranduil walked with all that unfathomable grace up to the counter again.

“Of course I did.” Thranduil smirked, rolling up the sleeves on his sung, expensive looking jumper, revealing a soft looking piece of bandage on each arm. “Now, they’re obviously not healed yet, but I can give you a sneak preview.”

“I feel honoured.” Bard said, grin still firmly in place as Thranduil carefully peeled back the bandages, Bard couldn’t help his little gasp when he saw.

It was of course still in its very early stages of healing, but Bard could still see it, the wildflowers he had arranged woven into the intricate branches travelling up Thranduil’s arms. There were other things in the branches as well, details he had never noticed before, so delicate and intricate in their design, leaves and berries and flowers and small creatures and ting=y branches coming off the larger ones. It was like a forest.

It was breath-taking.

“It’s amazing.” Bard breathed, tracing his fingers over the older, healed parts of the tattoo before he could stop himself, Thranduil didn’t seem to mind. “But I do call bullshit on you doing all of this yourself, on your left and right arms.” Bard added, cocking an eyebrow and Thranduil who laughed a full and musical sound that Bard immediately wanted to hear again.

“I am ambidextrous. Very good with my hands.” Thranduil smirked, eyes sparkling with mischief. “But I will admit, I did have to get some help from one of the other artists for my upper arms, it was rather hard to reach.”

“I bet that was stressful for them.” Bard laughed, finally managing to pull the pads of his fingers from Thranduil’s arm so he could carefully put his bandages back down and roll his sleeves back down over them.

“I’m sure it was, luckily Tauriel is good under pressure.” He replied, Bard imagined she would have to be for him to allow her to do it.

“The tattoos are incredible.” Bard told him sincerely.

“Maybe one day you’ll let me do one on you, be your first.” Thranduil teased, voice playful.

“What makes you think I don’t already have one?” Bard smirked back, getting a pleased smile from Thranduil.

“Do you now?” Thranduil smiled, eyes sparking as he leant languidly and more than a little invitingly on the counter between them.

“Perhaps.” Bard answered, his turn to tease now.

“Going to tell me where and what?”

“No, I think I’ll make you wait.”

“Until?”

“Until you find it yourself.”

“Now that does sound promising.”

“I bet it does.”

“Unfortunately, I have a son to pick up from the sitter, so I must leave you.”

“And I have three kids and a put upon neighbour to rescue.”

“I do hope I see you again this week though.”

“Oh I’m sure you will.” Bard told him with a grin. “And you had better pop in on Friday or Tilda will be horribly disappointed.”

“Well we couldn’t have that now could we.”

“Certainly not.”

“One more thing.” Bard was about to ask him what it was but before he could there was a set of soft lips against his own chapped ones. They were gone as quickly as they were there, and before he had really computed it Thranduil was out the door with a smirk.

 

Bard saw him three more times in the coming week, on Monday he dropped into the tattoo shop during lunch to be nosey at the designs – everyone who worked there was clearly exceptionally talented (as if Thranduil would accept any less), but no one was more talented than Thranduil (unsurprising).

Thranduil had caught him admiring some of the tattoo design and had slid up behind him and started murmuring things laced with suggestion about where Bard’s tattoo might be. Bard swatted him and blushed a little when he left him with the cupcake he may or may not have bought for him at lunch.

Thranduil teased him so Bard had shut him up with a quick kiss before leaving, not unlike Thranduil had on Saturday. That apparently became their customary goodbye after a little while.

On Tuesday Thranduil had given him a flying visiting at lunch returning the cupcake favour and leaving his number in the box. And of course with a leaving kiss, slightly deeper than before.

Come Wednesday Hilda had to make an emergency trip to her sisters so the kids were there and when Thranduil appeared near the end of the working day Bain and Sigrid gave him the third degree in questioning before deciding that he was okay and Tilda made him a flower crown, his and Bard’s matched.

The next time he saw him was Thursday after closing, he waited outside the tattoo parlour that only closed a little while after the flower shop and surprised Thranduil with a little bouquet of wildflowers as he walked him out to his car, their kiss that time wasn’t fleeting at all.             

Then it was Friday and his kids were all back in the shop and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited for Thranduil’s visit.

And he didn’t disappoint, bells on the door chiming and gilding in with a cheeky smile and someone hiding behind his legs that Bard would bet was Legolas.

Tilda had apparently decided Thranduil was fair game (probably because Bard had been talking about him all week which was in hindsight pretty embarrassing) but she ran at Thranduil and he caught her easily and swung her around and Bard was well aware he was falling at an alarming rate but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“There is someone I would like you to meet.” Thranduil said to Tilda, gently putting her down on the floor and tugging his son forward encouragingly. “This is Legolas.”

Luckily Tilda’s impossibly sunny attitude had Legolas out of his shell in no time as Tilda told him about all the flowers (unable to pronounce any of the names properly which made both he and Thranduil laugh) as Thranduil walked over, smiling at him over the counter like usual.

“I feel like we’re meeting the family very early.” Bard teased, not that he minded one bit.

“I know, you haven’t even tried to feel me up yet.” Thranduil smirked and Bard rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to kiss him for the moment.

“I could change that if you like.” Bard grinned.

“Bard, there are children in the room.” Thranduil mock-scolded, Bard rolled his eyes and did kiss him quickly this time, all smiles.

“I meant I was going to ask you on a date.” Bard told him when he pulled back from the kiss.

“Oh, where are you taking me?” Thranduil asked, resting his chin on his hand and looking up at Bard through his lashes very deliberately.

“Dinner and a movie?” Bard suggested with a smile, before leaning closer to Thranduil’s ear (and away from all young ears) and murmuring. “Then I promise to try and feel you up in the car, maybe even a little during the film as well.”

“I look forward to it.” Thranduil teased, catching Bard’s lips again, Sigrid laughed and Bain made a put upon sound.

They kissed until Tilda started tugging on Bard’s clothes to get his attention.

“Yes darlin’?” Bard asked, smiling when he noticed one of her simply little flower crowns on Legolas’ head and it was slightly too big for his petite head and it looked adorable.

Tilda made it clear she wanted to get up on the counter and Bard obliged, turning his attention to Legolas who gave him a shy smile.

“Can I come up too please?” He requested so polite and soft spoken.

“Of course you can.” Bard smiled, scooping the little boy up and popping him down next to Tilda, who was at the moment carefully arranging Thranduil’s own flower crown.

“Da I made you one but then I gave it to Legolas, sorry.” She explained, it made Bard laugh until he looked up and got caught in the impossibly soft look in Thranduil’s eye.

Next week they all had flower crowns. 

They may or may not have gotten married wearing flower crowns.

 

 


	107. Florist!Thran and Tattooist!Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Barduil AUA flower shop and a tattoo shop right next to each other. Thran works at the flower shop, and Bard works at the tattoo shop. Bard has a bunch of swag tattoos while Thran has flowers braided into his hair cuz he's pretty. They share woeful looks 'cause I mean ''oh no he's hot''. Sometimes Bard draws flowers/elf-like things for him but he just leaves them on his desk when Thran's not there and Thran makes Bard flower crowns and Bard wears them but also gives them to the Bardlings.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“…ada? Ada are you even listening to me?”

“Hmm? …Sorry, what?” Thranduil snapped himself out of it, turning his attention back to his son who promptly let out a put-upon sigh.

“I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Sorry, I was distracted.”

“Clearly.” Legolas replied, before looking out the window and smirking (something which he definitely got from Thranduil). “And it wouldn’t take a genius to guess what by. Or rather who.”

Little shit.

“Aren’t you supposed to respect your elders?” Thranduil griped, going back to perfecting the bouquet of vibrant germinis that he was working on before he got…distracted.

It wasn’t his fault, he honestly couldn’t help it. Sometimes he just looked at the man from the tattoo shop next door and felt like he _knew_ him, although from where he couldn’t possibly say. It was the strangest thing.

“I respect your ability to arrange flowers.” Legolas grinned. “However, I do not respect your inability to woo the tattoo artist next door.”

“I am not trying to ‘woo’ him.” Thranduil protested, albeit weakly, his son knew him far too well to buy it.

“I know, all you’re managing at the moment is some pining.”

“I do not _pine_.” Thranduil grumbled, not looking up from his flowers, wondering if it would make him a bad parent if he just took up a policy of ignoring Legolas. Not that he would be able to do it for long, just as long as this conversation about his personal life (or lack thereof) and possible (definite) crush on the very attractive man next door.

“You sure about that?” Legolas asked, but Thranduil decided to start his policy of ignoring him. “Then I guess you won’t be interested to know that I recently discovered that my friend Sigrid is actually his daughter.”

Thranduil could hear the smugness in Legolas’ voice as his head snapped up to look at him, his policy of ignoring him hadn’t even lasted ten seconds apparently. Legolas grinned at his reaction, little shit.

“What! When did you find that out?” And more importantly _why didn’t you tell me immediately_.

“Oh the other day when I went round after school. But given that you’re neither pining nor trying to woo him I guess you’re not really interested in what I found out…” Legolas trailed off and Thranduil glared, but it only made his son grin harder. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes.” Thranduil grumbled begrudgingly, vaguely hoping that this did not count as stalking, he decided it didn’t, after all, it’s not like he’d asked his son to gather any intel.

“I thought you might. Well, his name is Bard, he has three children, a massive sweet-tooth, is completely single and most importantly of all like men as well as women.”

“How could you possibly have found _that_ out?” Thranduil asked him, sincerely hoping he hadn’t just outright asked, although he wouldn’t put it past him.

“Over dinner Sig was teasing him about the florist in the shop next door to his studio that he liked.” Legolas told him, Thranduil wasn’t too sure how to respond so he ducked his head and went back to the flowers, his comfort zone. “Want to know what I said?” Legolas continued.

“I doubt it.” Thranduil responded, but curiosity won him over. “What did you say?”

“That you were the florist next door and have had a great big crush on him for months.”

“LEGOLAS!” Thranduil yelled, lunging over the counter, but Legolas was already laughing and out of the door, where he ran off with a giggling girl that Thranduil was almost certain was Sigrid.

When Thranduil went to close up shop that day fate was apparently laughing at him because he came out of his shop at the exact same time Bard came out of his.

It wasn’t actually that unusual, and normally they would smile (a little shyly) at each other and disappear off in their different directions, but this time when Bard caught his eye Thranduil blushed the shade of a tomato and may have run away a little (a lot).

He was going to kill his son.

 

When Thranduil arrived at work the next day in the afternoon Tauriel greeted him with a grin.

“Why are you smiling? Normally you’re a bit grouchy when I schedule you on the early shift.” Thranduil asked, suspicious of her sunny disposition, he wouldn’t put it past her to have been conspiring with his son either.

“Someone dropped something off for you.”

“Oh?” Thranduil wondered and she indicated a piece of paper on his desk.

Thranduil picked it up and his breath caught as he looked at it, on the paper a woodland had been drawn, filled with winding branches and patterns of flowers and at the centre of it someone who Thranduil was fairly sure was himself next to a great elk. He could feel the name of the forest on the tip of his tongue before realising that was absurd, it wasn’t a real place.

What it was, was beautiful.

And he knew exactly who it was from, because on the back of the paper there was a small note.

 _Our children are troublemakers._  

Well, he couldn’t argue with that.

(Only now he was thinking less like he was going to murder Legolas for embarrassing him and more like he was going to buy him a car as his meddling had resulted in this beautiful drawing).

Thranduil looked up to see Tauriel grinning at him – people were doing that far too often at the moment, he clearly hadn’t scared anyone in a while – so he glared at her, she snorted and went back to her work.

Thranduil was now left with the dilemma of wanting to send a message back but not being entirely sure how to do so. He couldn’t draw, at least not even close to the standard that Bard could, and he wondered if a flower would come off too forward this early on.

He pinned the picture to his cork board in the backroom, usually used for arrangement designs and picture of flowers he intended to get his hands on, but Bard’s drawing was just too lovely not to put up.

Then he remembered Legolas mentioning something about Bard having a sweet tooth and he had an idea.

“Tauriel!” He called, her head popping into the backroom not a moment later.

“Yeah boss?” She asked, a couple of roses in her hands, no doubt for whatever customer she was currently serving.

“I need you to do me a favour when you’ve finished with the customer.”

“Yeah?”

“I need you to pop over into the bakery and buy cupcake, the best they have. And if you can manage to do it without mentioning it to my son _and_ without teasing then you can buy yourself something as well.” He told her, handing her some money.

“Done and done.” She grinned, taking the money and going out to finish serving the customer.

He didn’t know when they had gotten friendly enough for her to know that she could tease him and get away with it. Okay that was a lie, it was when her boyfriend had almost died and Thranduil had found out she had literally no support system. She’d all but moved in with him and Legolas for a while, until Kili was out the woods and back on his feet, their relationship had become far less boss-employee, and she had become more like an honorary daughter to him. Thranduil didn’t regret it one bit.

Thranduil came out to take over the till as Tauriel left to go buy the cupcake, returning ten minutes later with a small box in one hand and a half eaten muffin in the other.

“Thank you.” Thranduil said, taking the box and ignoring her grin as she continued eating the muffin gleefully.

Inside was a delicious smelling, clearly completely fresh, with a beautiful swirl of blue and pink icing on top of it. He grabbed one off the pretty pieces of card used to attach messages to the flowers and wrote one of his own.

_They certainly are. Thank you for the drawing, it was beautiful, you are very talented._

Tauriel was already next to him as he tucked the piece of card with his elegant handwriting under one of the pieces of string on the box, clearly knowing she was going to be couriering it next door without having to be asked.

With a smirk but without actually teasing him she carefully picked up the box and headed out the door.

The next day Thranduil had another drawing waiting for him, this time it was a waterfall cascading down into a pool surrounded by those same trees as before, with a person sat by the water, their legs dangling in. Thranduil knew it was him again, Bard had drawn the flowers he braided into his hair almost every day. There was a note on the back again:

 _Alas it will never be as beautiful as the person I drew it for_.

Thranduil promptly blushed at the compliment and pinned the drawing next to the last one Bard had done.

He sent Tauriel out to buy a red velvet cupcake.

_The cupcake is red because you made me blush. Not an easy feat._

_P.S._

_Flattery will get you everywhere._

Amazingly Tauriel managed not to comment as she saw the note and took the cupcake next door.

The next day brought another beautiful drawing, this time Thranduil sat in a throne made of branches, a crown of flowers and berries on his head. Thranduil recognised the throne, though he had no idea how.

_That is promising. Will it get me a date?_

Thranduil bit his lip to try and suppress his smile (he failed), when he came out of the backroom after pinning the drawing next to the others, Tauriel had already left for the bakery.

_Where are we going?_

Thranduil wrote, tucking it under the string of the box when Tauriel returned with the cupcake, but before he could send it back, he had a visitor.

“’Scuse me mister.” Came a child’s voice, Thranduil had to look over the counter to be able to see her, she was completely adorable and probably only about seven, Tauriel looked like her heart had just melted and she wasn’t the only one.

“How can I help you miss?” Thranduil asked, coming around the counter and crouching to get on eye level. “Where is mum or dad?” He asked, a little concerned that there didn’t appear to be a parent.

“Oh my da is next door, he said I could come and visit so long as Bain walked me to the door.” She grinned, one of Bard’s other children then.

“Is Bard your da?” He checked, even though he was fairly sure.

“Yep.” He replied, popping her p.

“And what’s your name then?” Thranduil asked, this was a seriously adorable child.

“Tilda.” She smiled.

“And why did you want to come visit?” Thranduil inquired, not that he minded, not one bit, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious.

“I wanted to ask you how you get all the pretty flowers to stay in your hair.” She told him, gently touching some of said flowers before plucking at her own hair thoughtfully.

“Well, it took a lot of practise, and your hair might need to get a little longer first, but I can teach you when it does.” Thranduil told her, because it really would be very difficult at the moment as her hair probably wouldn’t hold the flowers up very well until it was a bit longer and thicker.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” She sighed, effectively breaking Thranduil’s heart.

“Wait, I have an idea.” Thranduil grinned and she looked at him inquisitively as he set about working.

“What’re you doing?” She asked after a little while, unable to see up onto the counter.

“Would you like to sit up here so you can watch?” He asked and she nodded vigorously, he smiled and carefully picked her up to sit on the worktop next to him, it only took her a little while to work out what he was doing.

“Are you making me a crown!” She asked, voice full of excitement as Thranduil weaved the flowers together in a circle.

“I certainly am.” He smiled, hands working quickly and with a lot of skill as he made her a fairly elaborate crown filled with the brightest flowers he had. “There you go.” He said as he finished, gently placing it on her head so that it wouldn’t fall off easily and smiling as she beamed at him.

“Thank you thank you thank you!” She shouted happily, launching herself at him for a hug and successfully melting whatever was left of his poor heart.

“Can you do me a favour?” Thranduil asked as he popped her back down on the floor.

“Of course!” She agreed happily.

“Do you think you could give this to your da?” He requested, passing her the box with the cupcake.

“Yes that’s okay, but you have to walk me back to the shop.” She explained, already taking Thranduil’s hand and pulling him towards the door, Thranduil shot a helpless look to Tauriel who was laughing into her hand.

She dropped his hand as she pushed open the door to Bard’s tattoo parlour, scampering inside and making a beeline for her dad, who looked up and caught Thranduil’s eye, a smile taking over his face as Tilda handed over the box and started chattering excitedly about her crown.

When Thranduil got into work the next day there were two pictures waiting for him. One from Bard with its beautiful and intricate lines, this time of a great stylised hall as if it was carved out of the very woods, with two figures dancing in the middle, Thranduil knew it was them.

_Can I take you dancing?_

_P.S._

_You’ve made quite the impression on my daughter, she keeps telling me not to mess it up_.

Thranduil laughed lightly before his heart turned to mush again when he saw the other picture that had been left. He knew it was done by Tilda, of her and Bard and Thranduil, all wearing matching crowns with a little message:

 _Thank you for my crown. Da was very jealous_.

He send Tauriel with a cupcake order that time, instead he made Bard a crown, grinning the whole time.

_I would love for you to take me dancing, when and where?_

_P.S._

_Apparently you were jealous._

He tucked the card carefully between the flowers and had Tauriel deliver it.

Later in the day he saw Bard leaving his shop, presumably to grab lunch, with the flower crown firmly in place on his head, Thranduil thought it actually complimented his tattoo sleeves very well, despite the juxtaposition (or maybe because of it). He caught Thranduil’s eye and winked at him.

And just before closing he had a visitor, and not Tilda this time.

He blushed as Bard came into the shop, flower crown and an unwavering smile on his face.

“Hello.” Thranduil greeted a little shyly (which was odd because he was not a shy person).

“Hello.” Bard replied, voice slightly teasing. “Thank you for the crown.”

“Looks good on you.” Thranduil answered, he was pretty sure everything (or indeed nothing) would look very good on (or off) Bard.

“Do you like them?” Bard asked as Thranduil’s eyes caught on the tattoos on Bard’s arms, he held his arms out, pushing his shirt sleeves right up to his shoulders so taht Thranduil was able to look closer, tracing his fingers over them.

They almost seemed to tell a story, down near Bard’s hand was water, waves licking up his arm, a simple boat amidst them, then an abstract kind of town on the lake, and above that snaking the rest of the way up his arm was a dragon, fire spouting from it’s mouth back down into the town.

On his other arm were three long arrows twisting around in a spiral, starting at his shoulder with the tip of each arrow reaching his wrist.

“They’re beautiful.” Thranduil said sincerely, he had the strangest feeling like he almost recognised the things they were showing, it’s why he couldn’t help but ask. “What do they mean?” Thranduil asked, he recognised the style as Bard’s from his drawings, he must have designed them himself for someone else to apply to his skin.

“I am not entirely sure. Would you laugh at me if I said I dream of this place some times?” Bard answered, voice tentative.

“No. I sometimes have the most vivid dreams of a forest I’ve never seen, always the same one, over and over.” Thranduil replied, it was strange, with Bard there he almost felt like he could remember the name of it even though it hadn’t been real…

“Hey, you okay?” Bard asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.

“Sorry, I just felt like I was about to remember something.” Thranduil told him before giving himself a slight shake. “I am sure if it was important it will come back to me.”

“I’m sure it will.” Bard smiled. “When do you close today?”

“Soon, why?” Thranduil answered, returning his smile.

“I said something about taking you dancing I intend to follow through.”

“Tauriel, can you close up by yourself? I’m going out.” Thranduil called, not looking away from Bard and his smile, a smile he felt like he knew from somewhere other than here.

“Sure, have fun, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She called back.

Bard grinned and Thranduil couldn’t help but share it and for a moment they got a little lost in each other and Thranduil could feel something tugging in the very back of his mind.

“It’s the strangest thing.” Bard breathed after a little while. “I sometimes feel like I know you from somewhere, but like I just can’t quite remember where.”

“As do I.” Thranduil murmured, neither of them breaking eye contact.

It felt almost like something physical was pulling them towards each other now, now that they were so close to one another. It was harder to write off and ignore than before. Like something was pushing at his memory, trying to break through.

“Do you know what else I know?”

“What?”

“I would really like to kiss you right now, may I?”

“You may.” Thranduil smiled, and Bard leant forward and pressed their lips together.

It was like a damn breaking.

 

 


	108. Bard badly injures himself saving Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> I've been thinking a lot about Bard saving Thranduil's life from something -car accident or anything else, less or more frightening, whatever- and Bard gets hurt -badly or not- but... before they know eachother! Like, that's how they meet. It could be in any AU. Do you think you could come up with something, someday? :) Thanks!
> 
> Rated: G/T idk

Bard woke up in the hospital, the bleeping of various machines let him know where he was and that he was apparently alive, although what had put him in the hospital he couldn’t say. He was beyond groggy and felt like his mouth was filled with cotton wool and his eyes were bleary and couldn’t focus.

He fell to sleep again without meaning too.

He woke up again, he had no idea how long it had been since last time he had regained consciousness, albeit briefly.

This time the first thing Bard clocked were the four children piled on top of one another sleeping on the sofa in his room, which was odd, because he could have sworn he only had three last time he checked.

It made slightly more sense when he saw the beautiful stranger asleep, head pooled in his arms on the bed, silver-blonde hair splayed about around him, clearly the parent of the blonde boy Bard didn’t recognise asleep with his own children.

What didn’t make sense, however, was why there was a stranger in his hospital room, unless his life had turned into some kind of soap opera and he had forgotten the last year or two and this man was actually his husband or something. Bard forced that idea from his mind before it could germinate.

But really why was he here?

Bard found his fingers toying with the delicate ends of the silky hair and he remembered something.

He remembered that hair flicking in the breeze at the beach, being captivated by the person who owned it, being unable to look away for too long, but it was okay, because the beautiful stranger was looking at him as well.

He remembered catching a glimpse of him playing volleyball, building sandcastles and flying a kite with the little blonde boy, splashing around with him in the shallows.

He remembered turning to seek out another glimpse of him and had seen a shock of long silver hair struggling out at sea.

Bard had been up like a rocket, yelling at the lifeguard but already running into the water himself, diving forward and sprinting as fast as he could towards the drowning swimmer, the one with the silvery hair.

By the time he got there he had been under the water, Bard had ducked down and hauled him up, keeping his head above water and paddling as best he could towards where the panicked lifeguard was swimming towards them.

The lifeguard had taken him, started swimming him back to shore faster than Bard would have managed, but Bard hadn’t gone with them, he’s turned around and ducked back under the water.

He had needed to check that the little boy hadn’t been out here with him, he swam around, searching as best he could, father out than he should have gone, he knew better, but he had needed to check.

He had been caught by a riptide and dragged under.

He shouldn’t have gone out that far, he knew better. But he had needed to check.

Bard remembered drowning.  

The he didn’t remember anything at all.

It had happened so quickly Bard could only remember it in flashes, snapshots rather than a continuous sequence.

It felt more like a dream than something that had actually happened.

But it had happened, and he had somehow survived. Which didn’t exactly fit with what he remembered.

Because he remembered drowning.  And that was a sensation he was never going to forget.

He didn’t remember being saved. And yet here he was.

It was a relief to see the man and the little blonde boy were okay.

Bard slipped back into unconsciousness.

When he woke up a third time, he was much more lucid, or maybe it was just because someone else was awake as well. It was hard to tell, especially as he was clearly on the good drugs.

Bard groaned, he felt like death warmed up. Which he may well be actually. The man’s grip on his hand tightened.

“…Bard?” Came a very tentative voice, deep and rich and something for Bard’s tired mind to latch onto.

“Mmmm. Who’re you?” Bard asked, voice sounding far croakier and raspier than he had intended, he felt like his throat had been shredded.  

“I’m Thranduil. You, um, saved my life.” The man – Thranduil told him, it was a pretty name.

Bard forced his tired eyes open and got his first good look at the man. Beautiful didn’t really do him justice, but he was too tired to think up any other words right now.

“You have very pretty eyes.” Bard said, abstractly realising that his brain to mouth filter wasn’t working, but finding it difficult to care because the man was blushing and it was a very good colour on him, Bard told him so, he blushed deeper.

“How did I get here?” Bard asked tiredly, voice sounding and strained and far away, even to his own ears.

Thranduil looked worried. He also looked guilty. He shouldn’t feel guilty.

“I was out swimming and I got cramp and you spotted me and dragged me up and got the lifeguard, but then the lifeguard said you weren’t behind him, he thought you were behind him when he was on his way back to the beach. But you weren’t and he went back out for you and brought you back and, and, you were _dead_.” Thranduil explained, voice quite not wanting to wake the pile of children, but Bard could still hear the panic and guilt in there, so much guilt.

Bard brushed some hair back from his face.

“Why didn’t you swim back with us?” Thranduil asked him, voice barely a whisper.

“I didn’t know if your little boy was with you. I had to look for him.” Bard told him simply, his voice hurt, he was tired, but Thranduil looked stricken.

“I am glad you and your son are okay.” Bard smiled, _I would do it again_ clear in his meaning but his throat too painful to force the words.

Thranduil understood looked like he understood but he didn’t know what to say, Bard toyed with Thranduil’s hair, wrapping it around his fingers, tucking it behind his ears, running his fingers through it.

He fell asleep again.

The next time he woke up he noticed Tilda had wormed her way onto the bed and was sleeping snuggled up next to him, Thranduil still where he had been last time, breathing softly in his sleep.

Bard kissed Tilda’s head.

It was a large bed for a hospital, and they seemed to be letting Thranduil and the four kids stay around the clock which was unusual. His brain supplied that he was in a private hospital. He couldn’t afford that, he didn’t know why he was here.

He nudged Thranduil gently to wake him.

“Bard?” He asked tiredly, waking up more quickly when Bard squeezed his hand, Thranduil didn’t seem to have let go of it the while time he was sleeping.

“Where am I?” Bard inquired, glad to hear his voice was getting better, if only a little, it was still progress.

“In hospital?”

“I can’t afford a private hospital. Why am I here?”

“You saved my life.” Was the only response he got, he knew what Thranduil meant. He squeezed his hand again.

Tilda stirred against him, snuffling lightly, Bard used his free hand to comb through her hair, slowly waking her.

“Da?”

“Hello munchkin.”

“Da!” She shrieked happily, Bard winced. “Oh, sorry da.” She added sheepishly.

“It’s okay. I’ve missed you too.” He smiled, burying his face in his daughter’s wispy hair.

He felt Thranduil’s hand slip out of his and looked up to see him gently waking Sigrid and Bain, telling them that he was awake.

Bard got the feeling it had been a little while since the accident, more than a few days anyway.

“Da?” His eldest two asked tentatively, like they weren’t sure if they believed it, Bard held his other arm out to them and they rushed forward, joining them on the bed and being careful not to put any weight on his chest, which was good, his lungs felt bruised and broken.

“We thought we’d lost you.” Sigrid sobbed into his hair, Bard would bet she hadn’t cried since it happened, had been trying to stay strong for the other two, just in case, just in case he didn’t wake up like her ma.

“You didn’t.” Bard reassured, holding his children as tight as he could manage without hurting himself.

After a while of just holding them, Tilda finally broke into chatter as she always did, telling him about what had happened while he was unconscious. So mainly telling him about Thranduil and how he had moved him into the best hospital he could find and made sure they could stay in the hospital until he woke up, and how he would tell them all amazing stories until they all fell asleep.

He thinks he remembers bits of a few of those stories, making it into his memory even in his comatose state. Which was apparently what he had been for a fortnight.

He feel asleep as the children talked, Thranduil’s son – Legolas – joining in easily. Bard was glad. He fell asleep to the soothing sound of their easy chatter. His hand was already back in Thranduil’s.

He was awake for most of the next day when he got properly introduced to Legolas, who was a very sweet boy, finally getting the chance to thank Bard himself and not letting him out of a hug for the best part of half an hour. Bard and Thranduil smiled at each other.

After that Bard started waking and sleeping relatively normally, just needing extra naps during the day sometimes.  

He lasted almost a week before he went stir crazy.

He wanted to go home.

He was _fine_. But the doctors were going on about secondary drowning and collapsed lung and using words like ‘fragile condition’ and ‘taking it easy’.

“Please, I just want to go home. You’re wallpaper is lovely but I’m going a little crazy in here.” Bard practically begged the doctor who didn’t look amused, but Thranduil let out a light little bubble of laughter and that made it okay.

 “Mr Bowman you can’t. If you had someone to help you then I would let you, but alone with only three young children is just too dangerous at the moment.” The doctor told him and Bard collapsed back onto the bed with a sigh (which he regretted because it hurt a little and made him wince which did not help his case).

“What if he stayed with me?” Thranduil suggested gently, giving Bard’s hand a squeeze, by this point it was like their own way of communicating privately. “I have room, I could keep an eye on him and the children.”

The doctor looked considering or a moment before relenting.

“Oh very well. But you must adhere to everything I say. I will be coming for daily check-ups for the first few days, then every other day and eventually once a week and you will not exert yourself in any way. Do I made myself clear?” the doctor ordered and Bard nodded his head vigorously (well, as vigorously as he could manage right now).

“Thank you.” Bard sighed when the doctor was gone. “We will do our best not to be a burden.”

“You won’t be.” Thranduil told him, voice all sincerity.

“You don’t have to do this you know.” Bard said, anxious that Thranduil felt obligated or something. That wasn’t what Bard wanted.

“I want to.” Thranduil replied simply.

“I don’t want you to do it because you think you have to.” Bard pushed, needing to know that it really wasn’t just some kind of atonement.

“Bard, I _want_ to. Let me take care of you, please, I want to.” Thranduil reassured, Bard felt like there was no time cap on it, good, they could take care of each other. They were good at that.

Bard squeezed his hand and smiled before tugging him down gently for a slow and soft first kiss, Thranduil melted in his arms.

Thranduil’s house was huge, the children were clearly in heaven, dashing about the massive grounds, playing around and finally not looking worried all the time.

His kids had reason not to like hospitals.

As did Thranduil and Legolas.

Bard scolded himself for ending up there and bringing so many bad memories back for them all.

But Bard knew if he could go back, he would still stay and search for Legolas.

Thranduil’s house was beautiful, and Bard wasn’t sure exactly how or when it happened, but the months of Bard’s recovery came and went and the summer stretched into the winter and back into summer again and they just never moved back out, they stayed.

They looked after each other.

 


	109. An oasis in the forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Could you write about Thrandy and Bard out in a really pretty spot in the forest with the bardlings and Legolas? And with Legolas teaching the bardlings how to climb high in the trees? 
> 
> Rated: G

 

This was Bard’s favourite spot in the forest, he still remembered the first time Thranduil had shown it to him.

It was during the first tentative stages of their relationship, when it was new and fragile and terrifying, that Thranduil had brought Bard here, since then it had become their place, they came here a lot.

It was a little oasis in the middle of the dark forest. A small clearing in the trees, bathed in dappled sunlight and somehow free of the creeping sickness in the rest of the woods. The grass was lush and green and there was a little pool with water so blue Bard wondered if it was enchanted. The trees surrounding them were healthy and strong, not the gnarled and twisted ones that infested the forest.

Thranduil liked it here, he hated that he couldn’t seem to stop the way his forest polluted, no matter his efforts to stop it, to his mind he couldn’t justify an attack on Dol Guldur, he didn’t want to lose more life with an offensive strike when it was rare for them to lose even one elf attacking the smaller sects of spiders that appeared within the borders.  

He would not sacrifice the lives of his people to destroy the source, so instead he sacrificed the forest to darkness.

But not this place. For some reason it was still pure, it was still beautiful without being terrible, the air was fresh, not like the thick and oppressive, polluted air in the rest of Mirkwood. This oasis remained Greenwood The Great, that was why Thranduil loved it.

One day he would push them out. When the evil he knew was looming was vanquished, then they would destroy Dol Guldur and cleanse the forest. Until then there was little point, they would just come back in bigger numbers, cause more problems.

Thranduil had told him about the fears he had, about what he was sure the future held, the devastation that was coming.

Bard wouldn’t live to see it. He wondered if that comforted Thranduil or just served as a reminder of how short a time they had together.

Bard tried not to think about it, and he knew Thranduil did too.

And it was easy to forget in moments like these, it was easy to forget the way the relentless passage of time eroding slowly on Bard and the kids.

And the kids.

They made it better and worse.

They would still be there when Bard died, Thranduil would still have them.

But only for a time.

That made it worse.

But right now, it was easy to forget.

Because Thranduil’s head was in Bard’s lap, eyes closed and beautiful face smiling as Bard ran his fingers through all his silken hair and he listened to the sound of Legolas and the kids playing.

Well, Legolas had been trying to give them a lesson in the best way to climb trees, but it had quickly descended into a game and Legolas like everyone else was helpless to resist Tilda’s pleading face so he was playing too.

And he was definitely enjoying it if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

The first time they had overheard Legolas calling her ‘nethig’ Bard hadn’t thought anything of it because he had no idea what it meant, but Thranduil had a smile that was just overrunning his face to Bard had asked what it meant. He couldn’t help his own smile as he found out it meant little sister.

Thranduil said he had always wanted siblings, but his mother died before they had any more children, he had looked sad, at his wife’s death or guilt at not giving Legolas the siblings he had always wanted Bard did not know, so he had just pulled him close and kissed him, telling him that Legolas had them now.

Legolas currently had Tilda on his back as he spun through the trees, jumping gracefully from branch to branch, branching Tilda with a hand on a particularly long up, Sigrid and Bain looked like they were desperately trying to catch them, Bard did not fancy their chances. Legolas usually went easy on them to give them a chance, but right now Tilda was cheering him on and shrieking happily and making him grin every time he glanced out of Bain or Sigrid’s reach. The other two always laughed and told him he wasn’t fighting fair before redoubling their efforts.

Bard would worry about them falling, but Legolas never went too high up, the branches were sturdy and thick and his children weren’t stupid. Also the ground was soft, a thick layer of lush green grass if they did fall. But Bard would bet that Legolas would catch them, he barely took his eyes off where they were climbing and was never more than a pace away, he was keeping them safe.

Thranduil sighed happily and nudged his head into Bard’s palm, apparently his hair stroking was not up to scratch, because that was most certainly Thranduil’s way of gently asking for more please. He was a big cat really.

Bard smiled and leant down to kiss him instead, despite the awkward angle. Thranduil let out a surprised and happy little sound before bringing his slender hand up to bury in Bard’s hair, keeping their mouths firmly locked together.

Bard only meant it to be a quick kiss, especially given that the angle wasn’t the best for kissing, but Bard was loathe to pull back give how one of Thranduil’s hands was tangled gently in his hair and the other and found Bard’s and Bard’s thumb had automatically started brushing the back of Thranduil’s.

Besides, it was easy to forget the awkward angle when Thranduil’s soft red lips were moving against his, when his tongue was lazily sliding against Bard’s like they had all the time in the world. And here, in these moments, with the happy shouts of their collective children and Thranduil’s mouth against his, it felt like they really did have a forever.

Bard nibbled on Thranduil’s bottom lip and grinned into the kiss at the little noise Thranduil made in response and he was just about to do it again when a voice interrupted them.

“Ew. Please stop kissing in front of us.” Came Bain’s embarrassed voice, his face comically scrunched up as they parted to look at their children all advancing towards them.

“Ada you appear to have a da on your face.” Sigrid teased as Tilda giggled at them, her hand in Legolas’, and even Legolas looked a little grossed out.

Apparently you were never too old to be embarrassed by your parents kissing in front of you.

Naturally Bard grinned and made a big show of giving Thranduil a big sloppy kiss, it was every dad’s duty to embarrass his children whenever possibly after all. Thranduil clearly agreed because he joined in enthusiastically.

The kids all groaned dramatically.

Success.

 


	110. Sabrina!Au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Modern au, sort of “Sabrina” story with Bard’s parents working on the grounds/ in the house of Thranduil’s parents so the boys grow up together, then either bffs turn into bfs when they get to be teens, OR they decide they’re going to marry each other when they’re 5 and scandalize their parents (especially when many years later they do!)
> 
> Rated: T for some homophobia, as I set it in the fifties like the film

 

“Come on Thran, keep up!” Bard shouted, tearing down the seemingly endless length of the garden and Thranduil raced to keep up, unable to keep the grin from his face.

“Slow down!” Thranduil yelled after him, he was taller and should be faster, but he’d only just had his growth spurt and had not yet mastered coordinating his new height.

Bard didn’t slow down of course, Thranduil would bet he was just making the most of still being able to outrun Thranduil while he could. Bard had grown earlier, was coordinated and strong already while Thranduil was still awkward and gangly, he hoped he had the grace of his father one day.

Thranduil put on a final spurt of energy in a last ditch attempt to catch up with his friend, he didn’t know if he had really gotten faster or if Bard had just slowed down for him, but he didn’t really care because either way he had caught up.

Thranduil tossed his hands around Bard’s waist and their legs got tangled and they both went down to the floor like a sack of bricks, hitting the ground with a thud that was quickly replaced with their laughter.

Limbs all tangled together in the grass and panting for breath they had laughed until their sides hurt, and then they had laughed some more, basking in their carefree happiness and the warm sun of 1954.

They were too old to be behaving like this really, they were fifteen, Thranduil was an earl’s son, Bard was the son of their groundskeeper. Thranduil didn’t care, Bard was his friend.

But right there laughing in the dirt after growing up together and being best friends for ten years, something changed.  

They were looking at each other, Bard’s warm hazel green eyes meeting Thranduil’s aristocratic blue ones and Thranduil’s breath caught and he wasn’t sure why.

And then Bard’s lips were on his and Thranduil melted. It was clumsy and awkward as first ever kisses are, but it was also perfect, and Thranduil had never wanted it to end.

Bard was gone by the next morning.

That was five years ago now.

Thranduil had always loved his huge house with its sprawling gardens and lavish parties, all the expensive artwork and the white marble columns. He loved the way the wildlife knew they didn’t need to be afraid to come into the gardens and the woods surrounding them, he loved the beautiful carvings in the woodwork of the house and he loved the labyrinth of rooms that meant he could always find privacy.

Most of all he had loved Bard. Still did, even now.

He didn’t remember much about that afternoon in 1954. It was strange, he almost expected to remember it in minute detail, such a changing day in his life. And he supposed in a way he did, he remembered he and Bard running around vividly, he remembers kissing him and being kissed by him as if it had only just happened.

But after that, it was harder. Maybe it was some kind of defence mechanism, to forget the things his father had said, the look on Bard’s face, the fear he had felt.

He remembers them being torn apart, his father’s furious yelling. Thranduil had lived such a sheltered life he didn’t know what he had done wrong. He learned. Boys didn’t kiss boys. It was wrong. Thranduil never believed it, because he had never felt as at home as he had in that moment, when Bard’s lips had been on his. What was wrong was the way Thranduil had been terrified that his father was going to hit Bard, he had been shaking him and shouting in his face though Thranduil could not remember what had been said he knew it wasn’t nice. He’d pushed his father off of Bard and stood in between them.

That had made it worse.

He had been crying, that had made it worse still.

His father had had to hold his back as Bard’s father took Bard away, Mr Bowman’s face had been a strange mixture, scared, apologetic, angry, though at who Thranduil couldn’t say.

He remembered his father’s vice like grip on his arm as Thranduil tried to chase after Bard, being hauled bodily back up the garden by his own father. There were no mothers to help them, mothers who may have seen the way they looked at each other and had sympathy.

When Thranduil had hit him his father had struck him about the face and he had fallen to the floor with the force of it. He could hear Bard’s shouts, he tried to chase after him, instead his father dragged him back into the house and locked him in his room.

Out of his window he had seen Bard being forced into a car and driven away, he had tried to climb out the window and down to him, but he wasn’t coordinated back then, just after a growth spurt, and he had fallen.

He’d broken his arm, scratched up his face, he’d cried out in pain and the last thing he had seen was Bard trying to throw himself out of the car and run back to him.

They didn’t get to say goodbye.

 Since then Thranduil hasn’t seen Bard, not even a glimpse, he hasn’t heard anything about him, no scrap of information on his friend was permitted to be given to him. It had been a cruel thing to do.

Thranduil had expected his father to hate him, refuse to look at him, disown him even. But none of that happened. Instead he acted like it had never happened, like Bard had never even existed, and he had evidentially put the staff under the same orders.   

But Thranduil never forgot, he hated him for it. He had a scar of his face from that day, it wasn’t large or even that unseemly, just a white line dragging along his left cheekbone. But it was a reminder.

His father told people he got it falling out a tree ‘like the foolish boy he was’ and honestly Thranduil didn’t know if it was from his father’s strike against his face or from falling, but he knew it had had nothing to do with a tree.

Mr Bowman still worked for them, but he hadn’t been permitted to speak to Thranduil, and eventually Thranduil had stopped trying to get him to, stopped begging him to tell him where Bard was. He had hated him until he had grown up, had realised how much a man like Mr Bowman needed his job, how Thranduil’s father could so easily make sure he never worked again.

So he stopped asking, and he pretended he had forgotten all about Bard, but he never did. He imagined his father thought that Thranduil had seen the error off his ways, his ‘perversion’ for what it was, _wrong_. But he never did, he had never thought that for a second. He just let his father think that, it made his days easier for his father to think that.

The only thing that Thranduil would not compromise on, would not pretend on, his own subtle way of fighting back, of shouting that he had not forgotten Bard, that he still love him and hated his father for what he did, was when his father paraded suitable young ladies in front of him.

He had nothing against the girls, but he wondered how many of them would have something against him if they knew. So he politely declined each and every one of them, well, except one.

Silvia. She had an illegitimate child, had been shunned by her family and there was the quiet judgemental uproar of the British when she had come through the doors anyway. Her father had tried to haul her away, seething in her face, Thranduil had been eighteen, had power at his own parties and had told him to let go of her and he had danced with her.

She had been his friend, she hadn’t wanted to court him or marry him, although they considered it, probably would have gone through with it just to piss off their families, and even if they did not feel for each other romantically, they loved each other.

She was the first one he told about Bard, he was the only one she told about the father of her child.

But she had died, a fast and vicious sickness had seized her and Thranduil ached from her loss, added it to the heavy weight of losing Bard that still pressed down on him, he was not destined to have friends it seemed.  

He ignored his father’s protested, fought back for the first time in years, and he took in her son. Formally adopted him, kept him safe, loved him unconditionally. Little Legolas. He was the only reason he could find to get up in the mornings.

He missed Bard.

His resentment for his father grew every day. Every day he pretended it hadn’t happened. And maybe he would have finally boiled over, left and forsaken his inheritance in favour of leaving to find Bard. But he couldn’t just think of himself anymore, there was a little blonde toddler asleep in his arms.

But now his father was dead and Thranduil didn’t know what he felt.

Didn’t know if he was sad or relieved. He had no idea how he felt about it. He didn’t cry.

They were dressed in black as was expected at a funeral, Thranduil had said a few words because it was the done thing. But mainly he had sat quietly with Legolas in his lap as the priest droned on.

When his father’s body was in the ground Thranduil, with Legolas on his hip, walked up to Mr Bowman.

“Where is Bard?” Thranduil asked, his face more open than he had allowed it in years.

Mr Bowman looked shocked, maybe he thought Thranduil really had forgotten about it, but then something in his expression broke.

“I don’t know.”  

Thranduil cried, Legolas wrapped his arms around his neck held him as tight as such a small child could.

Thranduil went inside.

The house went on as usual, the staff knew how to run the place, Thranduil was just a new figure head. None of them knew what to say to him. They’d all been complicit in his father’s actions against him. Thranduil didn’t blame them for it, but he didn’t tell them that either.

They started to avoid him, scurried away from him when they saw him.

Maybe it was dangerous that they finally knew that he had never changed, that his proclivities had not changed. But Thranduil did not care and none of them said anything. What was there to say after all? The only proof was a scar on his face that his father had lied about for five years and the memory of a warm and kind boy that had once lived here.

Occasionally Mr Bowman looked like he wanted to say something, but he never did.

Thranduil didn’t even know where to begin looking for Bard. Maybe Bard had forgotten all about him anyway, maybe it hadn’t meant the same thing to him as it had to Thranduil. Maybe he was married. Maybe he was dead too, just like his mother, and Silvia, and his father. He had no idea.

But it turned out that he didn’t have to look. Because it was in the middle of the night on a Sunday and someone was banging on the door and the staff would handle it but Thranduil was angry, he was angry a lot these days, so he stormed through his house shouting at the servants to return to bed, he would deal with it.

He wrenched open the door and froze to the spot.

Standing on the doorstep, soaked and cold and five years older, was Bard.

Thranduil stood stick still and drank in the sight of him, as if any slight movement would make his disappear, prove it to just be Thranduil’s imagination, maybe he was asleep.

Bard was strong, his hair longer than it had been, his face had a small beard on it that hadn’t been there before, he was taller even if Thranduil was taller still, and though he still looked soft in so many ways, something had hardened as well. But Thranduil knew those eyes. No matter the changes, Thranduil knew those eyes. He would always know those eyes.

He was beautiful.

“Bard?” He practically whispered, he couldn’t believe what he could see.

“Thran.” Bard replied tentatively, his voice was deeper than Thranduil remembered, and it had a lilt to it that Thranduil already loved and wanted to hear again.

“How?” How are you here? How did you know?

“It was in the paper. I got on the first train I could after I heard.” Bard answered, maybe it felt like they had been waiting for his father to die. Thranduil didn’t know. He didn’t care.

“You hadn’t forgotten me? I worried that it was only me, that you did not…” He trailed off, not wanting to finish the thought.

“Not a day went by when I did not think of you. Worry about you, what he might have done.” Bard responded, voice firm and he was stepping closer, his hands were on Thranduil’s arms.

“He didn’t do anything. He pretended you had never existed.” Thranduil told him, his voice broke as Bard squeezed his biceps reassuringly.

“Thran.” Bard said, Thranduil could hear the tears threatening in his voice. A work roughened hand came up to Thranduil face, a thumb gently tracing the old scar on his cheek. “God the last thing I saw was you falling, I didn’t know if you were alright.”

He wasn’t. He hadn’t been in a very long time. But right now it was like something in his heart was slipping back into place. Something he had thought long lost.

“I am now.” Thranduil whispered, his hands grasping desperately at Bard’s shirt, he was shaking.

Bard’s arms were around him within seconds, holding him close and tight and with a promise never to let him go again. He buried himself in Bard, seeking out that familiar scent, the one that felt far more like home than his house ever had. He might have been crying, he thought Bard was too.

Bard’s lips found his, tilting his chin with strong fingers and slotting them back together. And suddenly they were fifteen again and everything was perfect. Thranduil would never let him be taken away from him again.

It was awkward and clumsy, just like the first time. Thranduil wasn’t surprised, he hadn’t kissed anyone since, hadn’t even thought of it. And it felt like Bard hadn’t either. It was okay, they had time.

“You were always pretty, but now, now you are so beautiful I almost think this is a dream.” Bard laughed against his lips, stroking a hand through Thranduil’s long silver-blonde hair and running his fingertips along Thranduil’s jaw as he peppered kisses on his lips.

“I am afraid I will wake up any moment and you will disappear from me again.” Thranduil admitted, knuckles turning white where he held fast to Bard’s shirt.

“I am here, I’m not going anywhere. There is no one alive who could force me from you again. I promise.” Thranduil nodded as Bard softly brushed tears off of his cheeks and kissed him again so tenderly that Thranduil felt like his heart was breaking and being put back together at the same time.

“It will not be easy.” Thranduil pointed out, they were not the fifteen years olds they had been, ignorant of the world’s hatreds.

“I do not care. Whatever it takes.” Bard replied fiercely and Thranduil dragged him forwards to kiss him again.

“Whatever it takes.” Thranduil agreed.

And fifty-five years later, at the tender age of seventy five. They finally got married.

And they were fifteen and kissing in the grass all over again.

 


	111. Sigrid and her ada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thranduil is injured/depressed (or both) and Sigrid comforts him. Just some Sigrid and Thranduil moments, with little but strong Sigrid comforting the mighty elvenking. And maybe Bard being super proud of her for it
> 
> Rated: G

 

Sigrid had noticed that something was up with her ada. There were dark circles under his eyes and he wasn’t smiling as much as he usually did. She had already guessed the reason, that arrow he had taken to his leg was taking much longer to heal than he had expected and was stopping him from being able to do things.

He had stayed in Dale since he got injured, not wanting to be parted from his family, and da was more than a little unwilling to let him go as well. But that was a few weeks ago now and ada did have a kingdom of his own to run and couldn’t be away for much longer, even if he really wanted to stay.

Sigrid would bet it was because he didn’t like being by himself when he was hurt, she knew that he was thousands of years old, but no one liked being away from their family when they were hurt, and she didn’t know when Legolas was coming home again next.  

But da couldn’t go with him, even though the thought of ada needing to leave was stressing him out, he was in the middle of plans to start running trade down the Anduin river again and was having to negotiate with a lot of different people and settlements. From his haggard look Sigrid was getting the feeling that it wasn’t going as smoothly as he had hoped.

Da was trying to cheer ada up, and he was succeeding whenever he was around, always managing to coax laughs out of him, but he was busy so much at the moment. And Tilda was always good at making people smile but she was only little still and couldn’t really help with Sigrid’s plan, because she did have a plan to cheer up ada. She would get Bain involved but he was helping da as much as possible, learning about ruling and such like.

So that left her to do something about the fact her ada was sad, but it was okay, she had a plan, one that Tauriel had promised to help her with.

“Ada?” Sigrid asked, poking her head into their little sitting room.

“ _Tithen loth nín_.” Thranduil smiled and Sigrid returned the smile at the endearment, he was teaching her elvish and that had been the first thing she had learnt, wanting to know what he was calling her.

She plunked herself down on the sofa next to him and it took about three seconds before Thranduil was fiddling with her hair, taking it down and twisting it into elaborate elvish braids. She hoped she could have hair as lovely as the elves one day.

“Can I help you with something my darling or did you just come to keep your poor ada company?” Thranduil asked as he weaved patterns into her hair, his tone was light but Sigrid knew he was going stir crazy.

“A bit of both.” She smiled, her hair never getting so much as lightly tugged on as Thranduil spun it together.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I was thinking, you know you have to go back to your palace soon.”

“Yes, unfortunately. I will miss you all very much.” Thranduil told her and Sigrid understood, as nice as the elves were, she imagined it was quite difficult to befriend people who were your subjects. She didn’t like to think of her ada as lonely, but she knew that he had been.

“Well I was wondering if I could come with you? I’ve not seen the woodland realm and I would really like to, and that way we could continue my Sindarin lessons and you wouldn’t have to miss me.” Sigrid reasoned, turning to ace her ada as he finished her braids, he was looking considering and more than a little hopeful.

“You’ll have to ask your da. But the forest is a dangerous place and I would be busy a lot of the time. I wouldn’t want you to be bored trapped within my halls most of the time.” Thranduil replied, clearly torn between wanting her to come and being very aware of the difficulties.

“I already talked to Tauriel and she said she would keep me company when you were busy.” Sigrid reassured, and her ada was smiling far brighter than he had in a week.

“Well then it sound like all you need is permission from da.” Thranduil grinned at her. “Go on, go find him and ask.” Thranduil nudged at her.

“What, now?” Sigrid laughed, she’d only just arrived.

“Yes, I can’t help it I’m excited.” Thranduil replied, joining her laugh and gently throwing a pillow at her to hurry her as he couldn’t chase her out the room on his bad leg.

Sigrid rolled her eyes and scampered out the room to go looking for her da, who she found pretty easily practically tearing his hair out in his study whist pouring over some rather boring looking documents.

“Da?” Sigrid asked as she wandered into the room.

“Yeah darlin’?” He replied, scrubbing a hand over his face, he sounded stretched think and stressed out his mind.

“You okay?” She checked, even though she knew he wasn’t okay.

“Not really, but nothing you need to worry about.” He tried to smile but it wasn’t reaching his eyes.

“Tell me anyway.” Sigrid smiled. “You always told me it’s better to talk about it.” She reminded him and he relented a little.

“True. It’s just these new trade agreements are not going well at all and I’m more than a little worried about your ada going back and being alone while he’s still not healed. Sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to dump on you.” Bard apologise, Sigrid rolled her eyes, honestly, she was eighteen, she could handle it.

“Well I don’t know anything about negotiating with the River Folk, but I do have a solution to the second problem.” Sigrid said.

“Oh, what?” He asked, voice hopeful.

“I was thinking I could go back to his kingdom with him.” Sigrid told him, and then raced on before his fatherly instincts could tell her no (even though she didn’t think they would. “I already talked to Tauriel and she said she would keep me company when ada is busy and I talked to ada just now and he was so excited he threw a pillow at me to chase me out the room to come find you and ask.”

Her da just looked at her for a moment, blinking slowly like he was trying to process before he suddenly stood up and rushed around the table to drag her into a huge bear hug.

Sigrid was going to take that as a yes.

Thranduil’s woodland palace was simply the most beautiful place she had ever seen, she had spent the entire first week of her visit just gaping at everything she came across, Thranduil had indulged her and taken her on a complete tour of the realm, which took a very long time because Sigrid stopped every few paces to stare at something in awe and Thranduil was still having trouble walking, leaning on Sigrid for support. So it was okay, they were both slow.

After a couple more weeks when Thranduil’s leg was almost completely healed her took her out for a ride in the forest, Tauriel tagging along to keep them safe. Thranduil almost had a heart attack when Sigrid cut her hand, it had only been a small cut so she had started laughing at Thranduil’s overreaction, which had only horrified him more. It only took four hours to convince him that she was fine and wasn’t going to die the next day, (apparently mortals were fragile, Sigrid explained that yes, but not quite that fragile ada don’t worry).

She ended up staying with Thranduil for almost two months before he decided that the kingdom would be okay without him for a little while and they went back to Dale, her da was ecstatic to see them, they got crushed in one of his hugs for what felt like hours before he let go of them.

When they started kissing Sigrid rolled her eyes and made her escape.

Sigrid’s visits became a rather common occurrence after that first time, she loved her home in Dale, but there was just  _something_ about the woodland realm, it enchanted her and she could never help but want to go back again. Thranduil was always thrilled when she would come back with him and her da both happy and sad to let her go, glad Thranduil wouldn’t be without family, sad that he would end up missing them both.

Although when she returned from one of her visits a few years later with an elven suitor, her ada had a decidedly sheepish expression and her da scowled.

All in all she’d say her visits had been a  _very_  good idea.

 

 


	112. Thranduil makes preparations for Bard's death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> What if when bard dies instead of the anxious like turning to starlight like an elf he just //cant// bear the thought of him dying so differently and if this is the only shot he gets to be reunited w/ bard (and you know he's been preparing since the first day bard grew a grey hair) so he just like takes out a knife or poison and just 

 

Thranduil lay next to Bard in their large bed, occasionally taking sips of his wine and softly stroking his grey hair back and out of Bard’s face as his breathing grew more and more ragged.

The elven doctors had made sure he could feel no pain, but there was nothing more they could do to prolong his life.

He was slipping through Thranduil’s fingers, even as he still managed to hold onto them as tight as someone so frail could.

He had told Thranduil he loved him, running his hand down Thranduil’s forever young face and smiled. Thranduil had kissed him and told him that he loved him and that it was okay and would lay there with him until he was gone.

He knew Bard was suspicious, that he had been dealing with it too well, a strange clam had washed over Thranduil, because he knew what he was going to do, he had been planning for it since the lines in Bard’s face had deepened, since the grey hairs had started to outnumber the brown.

He didn’t want it to be the end, so he refused to let it.

As he lay there next to Bard, hearing the death rattle of his breath and feeling the remaining strength seep from his grip on Thranduil’s hand, he thought.

He thought back to when he had first decided on what he was going to do. He hadn’t told anyone, everyone would have protested, told him not to for their own selfish reasons that had very little to do with Thranduil. They had not loved a mortal, they did not know what he was going through.

Maybe that was not fair, maybe Thranduil was scared they would be able to talk him out of it. Scared of the look Legolas might have sent him, the way he knew he would have pleaded. Maybe it was Thranduil that was being selfish. He didn’t care. It was his turn.

He had been thinking of Legolas and only Legolas when he had forced himself to go on after his wife had died, and what had he got for that? A nickname of the ice king. Call cold and hard when he had had to shut down so much of his heart just to survive it. But Legolas was grown now, and he didn’t need him like he once did, he would be okay. Every decision he ever made was for his realm, his people, he protected them, kept them safe and alive and did his best to keep them from harms ways and people said he didn’t care. All he did was care.

Then Bard had come into his life, and those parts of his heart that had been so thoroughly shut down when his wife had died were woken up again. At first he had felt so very guilty, before he realised that she would tell him off if he missed his second chance at happiness. So he had taken it, he had taken it and had let himself be happier than he had been in a very long time. He finally wasn’t lonely any more.

But Bard was mortal, so it couldn’t last, there had always been a limit on their days together. But Thranduil had decided that that wasn’t good enough. That he would not go through that again, no, he knew himself, he knew he wouldn’t survive going through that again.

He wouldn’t want to.

So he had looked for a solution. But there was none, there was no way to turn a mortal into an immortal, no way to prolong Bard’s life that wouldn’t be more hurtful than helpful. There was nothing.

So Thranduil changed tactic.

It had always been an extra source of pain for Thranduil, that they would also be separate in death, that even death would not see them reunited if Thranduil somehow managed to forge on. And maybe he would have been able to if he knew he would see Bard again at the end.

He had started talking to the Valar, something he hadn’t done in a very long time, not since his wife died.

At first he had had no idea if they were listening, but still he spoke to them, hoped they heard, hoped they cared. It felt like a tall order. But still he spoke to them.

For two whole years he spoke to them without any response.

But then one night he was asleep, and they finally spoke back to him in his dream.

They had asked him if he was sure, he had said yes.

Every night for another few years they had visited and asked if he was sure, if it was still what he wanted. Made sure he understood what he would be giving up as well as gaining. He always said yes.

At some point they must have finally been satisfied that Thranduil knew what he wanted, because at long last they had told him what he needed to do.

“Die with your mortal, and you will be with him in the afterlife, we will make sure of it.” They had told him, he hadn’t heard from them since, which had worried him, because he had not been sure what they meant.

But then he had realised, what they had meant was so very simple. He only had to die with Bard, with his mortal lover, and they would be reunited.

So he had made his preparations.

And now here they were.

Bard looking up at him through bleary eyes, he looked sad, maybe he should have told him, but he hadn’t wanted Bard to be angry with him, so he hadn’t. It wouldn’t matter anyway, he would have a chance to explain, he had found them their forever after all.

“I never wanted it to be the end.” Bard’s impossibly thin and quiet voice managed to say, Thranduil shifted closer on the bed, taking another sip of his wine and drawing Bard into his arms carefully.

“It is not. I would not let it.” Thranduil whispered, and he didn’t know if Bard understood until he drew the wine goblet out of Thranduil’s hand with his own shaky grip.

“You didn’t– ” Bard started but his voice was weak and Thranduil cut him off gently.

“It was what I wanted.” Thranduil said quietly and Bard looked conflicted, but then he pressed a kiss to Thranduil’s knuckles and Thranduil knew what he was saying, that if their positions had been reversed he would have done the same, that it was okay.

Thranduil took the goblet back and drank down another sip of the wine.

They shut their eyes, holding onto each other.

They did not open them on arda again.

 

The first thing they saw in the next world was each other.

 

Thranduil only had one last wish.

 

He wished that Legolas had not found them, poisoned wine spilt over the bed as Thranduil’s hand had gone lax with death, both of them lying far too still and far too quiet for life.

 

He wished Legolas had not found them, his cry of grief would haunt Thranduil into forever.

 

 


	113. Nanny!Thran works for Bard (you know where this is going)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Alright alright I've got a prompt for you! Nanny!Thran works for Bard and every time they're around each other it's total sexual tension until one day, boom sexy filthy smut~
> 
> Rated: E

 

Bard had not been in favour of hiring this particular nanny for his children on the basis that he was not a cliché and didn’t want to be lusting after the nanny for Christ sake.

But he was hands down the best nanny they had interviewed and Tilda had been completely taken with him and he had told his kids that they could have the final say because it was them who were going to be spending the most time with the nanny.

So they hired Thranduil. Thranduil with his ridiculous hair and ridiculous face and ridiculous legs and ridiculous voice.

Bard couldn’t tell if his life had turned into a terrible porno or a shitty rom-com because for the love of god did he need to wear trousers that tight?!

Bard both loved and hated his promotion. Loved it because they finally had some serious financial security (talk about a reversal of fortunes), hated it because it meant he couldn’t be at home as much as he wanted to.

He loved it because it had led to hiring Thranduil, and he hated it because it had led to hiring Thranduil.

Bard took comfort in the fact that there were usually three children between him and Thranduil so he wasn’t about to do something awkward and humiliating like sleep with the nanny.

But then of course there wasn’t always children around. Sometimes Thranduil lingered before going home at the end of the day when the children were in bed, sometimes it was just them when the kids had just been dropped at their various clubs, or early in the morning when Bard was leaving and Thranduil was already getting dinner ready.

And whenever it was just them that fucker managed to make just about everything provocative.

Drinking, sitting, eating, walking, hanging the laundry out, reading a book, walking, the sodding washing up! You name it, this bastard made it suggestive.

So really Bard could not be blamed for what happened next.

“ _Mr Bowman_.” Thranduil all but purred in greeting as Bard got home, throwing his coat on a hook and toeing off his shoes as Thranduil went back to bending far more than was at all necessary to fluff the pillows on the sofa. All the kids had been invited to some big sleepover by one of Sigrid’s friends, which meant he and Thranduil were tantalisingly alone.

“You know you really don’t have to do that. You’re the nanny not a maid.” Bard pointed out a little awkwardly, trying not to enjoy the view but doing so and getting caught anyway.

“I don’t mind.” Thranduil smirked, walking with unfair elegance over to Bard and fussing with some non-existent lint on the shoulder of his suit.

“And you, uh, really don’t have to be here when the kids aren’t, if you don’t want to be.” Bard swallowed, they were standing very close in the confines of the doorway.

“What if I want to be here?” Thranduil teased.

“I would have to ask why?”

“Maybe I want to get you alone.” Thranduil smirked, Bard’s throat was dry, but Thranduil continued anyway. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.” They were so close now he was practically whispering in his ear. Bard didn’t know how much longer his restraint was going to last.

He wasn’t actually sure why he was bothering to restrain himself either.

“And I was hoping…” Thranduil trailed off, fingers creeping along the lapels of Bard’s suit jacket.

This was definitely heading into terrible porno territory. Bard was finding it hard to care at this point.

“Oh?” Bard managed, voice strained and hands itching to get around Thranduil’s hips, in his hair, on his ass.

“I was hoping you were going to do something about it before I die of old age.” He smirked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Cheeky bastard.

“You want me to do something about it?” Bard asked, eye brow raised.

“Yes please.” Thranduil smirked, or, he would have smirked, if Bard didn’t already have him slammed up against the wall, their lips sealed together in a biting kiss.

It was rough and desperate and the result of a few months of sexual tension and Bard’s hands were already sneaking down and over Thranduil’s lush rear. But Thranduil was apparently way ahead of him, jumping up without warning and wrapping those obscene legs around his waist. Bard caught him easily, pressing him up against the wall ever harder as he bit on his bottom lip.  

Bard was attacking Thranduil’s neck and rutting his hips up and Thranduil had his head thrown back against the door and was letting out all manner of delicious whimpers and they really needed to get to the bedroom.

Luckily, Thranduil was incredibly light despite his height (Bard wasn’t actually sure how it was possible for him to be so light) so Bard managed to get them into the bedroom (it was a minor miracle they hadn’t died getting up the stars).

Finally Bard was able to drop him down onto his soft bed with a delightful bounce, encouraging him up the bed and following, throwing his shirt down onto the floor as he crawled towards him up the bed.

Thranduil smirked and stripped his own shirt off, letting his hands play across Bard’s chest and brush teasingly over his nipples before gliding over his abs and busying himself with Bard’s trousers. Bard was back to mouthing at Thranduil’s neck (it was just too tempting) jerking and biting down slightly harder than he had meant to when Thranduil managed to get his trousers open and a hand around his cock.

Thranduil moaned as Bard bit down and Bard all but growled as he started sucking kisses down Thranduil’s ivory chest, pouring attention on his peaked nipples as he went, nibbling at them and flicking at them with his tongue and leaving Thranduil a panting mess by the time he was moving on.

Bard sat back on his haunches to undo Thranduil’s trousers and slowly drag them off his long legs, discarding them to the side of the bed and teasing with the hem of Thranduil’s briefs, tugging at them and letting them snap back against him a few times.

“Don’t tease.” Thranduil gasped, and really Bard thought that was a little rich coming from him, but he wasn’t really in the mood for teasing, not this time anyway.

He pulled off his underwear in much the same way he had with his trousers, freeing his hard cock and dropping his underwear on the floor to join his trousers.     

Bard ducked down and licked a stripe up Thranduil’s length, from root to tip, making him whine and then cry out as Bard took him into his mouth without warning. He hadn’t done this in a while, but he was pretty sure Thranduil was enjoying himself as he had to lay his arm over his hips to stop him bucking down his throat.

Bard bobbed his head, taking Thranduil down as far as he could take him and hollowing out his cheeks as he pulled back up, sliding his tongue along the underside and over his tip before going back down, hand working in tandem with his mouth where he couldn’t reach.

Bard could drown himself in all the wonderful noises and semi-coherent babbling pouring from Thranduil’s pretty pink lips.

Bard hummed around him and Thranduil moaned loudly before tugging insistently at his hair. Bard went easily, caging Thranduil’s body beneath him and letting himself be pulled down for filthy kiss.

“God please say you have something I _need_ you to fuck me, please.” Thranduil practically begged when they parted slightly from the kiss, Bard’s mouth finding its way back to his pearly white neck (that was probably going to be covered in marks tomorrow).

Bard grinned and pulled back, climbing off Thranduil despite his protestations and shucking off his trousers and underwear before grabbing lube and a condom from the bedside table.

He returned to the bed, settling himself down between Thranduil’s legs and kissing him as he flicked the cap and slicked up his fingers, circling one around Thranduil’s tight pucker before sliding it in slowly.

Thranduil whimpered and before Bard could ask if he was okay he was already shifting his hips impatiently, Bard smirked and started pumping his finger, tucking his head down to nibble on Thranduil’s ear lobe.

“Needy.” He teased, tugging slightly on Thranduil rim and turning whatever sarcastic response he was going to come back with into a broken off moan.

“A-another.” Thranduil demanded after a little while and Bard was more than happy to comply, pressing a second finger in alongside the first, loving the way Thranduil whined as he started to scissor him open, stroking around for that little bundle of nerves.

He knew when he had found it, Thranduil practically keened, back arching, throwing his head back and panting. He was beautiful.

Naturally Bard started an all-out assault on Thranduil’s sweet spot, getting him so desperate that he didn’t even notice when Bard pushed a third finger inside him as he writhed on his fingers, begging out Bard’s name desperately (something he planned on hearing again and again).

“Bard, please now, I need– ” Thranduil panted, and Bard was half tempted to make him say it but by this point he was so hard it hurt so he decided not to torture him (or himself) further.

Bard ripped open the packet and rolled the condom down his length, slicking himself up before lining up and slowly pressing in (so that he didn’t hurt Thranduil and so that he had some that he didn’t come immediately at the sensation of _hottightyes_ that engulfed him).

“Bard I swear to go if you don’t start moving right now I’ll– Ahhh, _Bard_! ” Thranduil started to pant, but Bard successfully cut him off with a sharp thrust of his hips, not giving him a moment before starting up a pounding rhythm.

Thranduil was moaning wantonly and the bed was actually moving and Bard couldn’t help his own grunts (definitely terrible porno material).

Bard slowed his thrusts to get deeper, Thranduil begging him to go faster again but Bard grinning and refusing, enjoying his begging far too much to actually comply.

He had about a second to realise what the spark in Thranduil’s eye meant before he was being flipped over and Thranduil was in his lap, smirking down at him. Bard grinned and landed a smack on Thranduil’s ass, making him whimper and throw a wanton look at Bard. _That_ was something to file away for later.

Thranduil started almost playfully bouncing up and down in Bard’s lap, speeding up steadily until he planted his hands on Bard’s chest and fucked himself back on Bard’s cock in earnest. Bard was gripping his pale hips so tight he was probably going to bruise and bucked his hips up to meet Thranduil’s every movement, shifting his hips slightly to start nailing his prostate on every thrust.

It wasn’t very long until their rhythm was becoming erratic and Bard slipped a hand between them to wrap around Thranduil’s leaking cock, stroking his lengeth and dragging him toward’s the finish.

“Bard, I’m gunna– ” Thranduil panted, and with one perfectly aimed thrust and stroke of his hand, Thranduil was coming apart around him, coming between them in streaks and crying out something that sounded a lot like Bard’s name.

Thranduil collapsed against him like a rag doll, his already tight ass clenching around his cock and practically dragged is orgasm out of him, emptying into the condom with a moan as Thranduil milked his orgasm from him, Bard wrapping him arms around Thranduil in a tight embrace, kissing his sweaty hair as they both came down.

“That was– ” Thranduil said dumbly, still breathing heavily in Bard’s arms.

“Yeah.” Bard agreed around his own ragged breaths, his fingers stroking down Thranduil’s back softly.

He should have guessed that Thranduil would drop off almost immediately, grumbling as Bard tried to detangle them, grabbing onto him and trying to keep him from moving.

“I just want to clean up.” Bard assured him with a smile. “This will be pretty gross in the morning. I will come right back I swear.”

“You better.” Thranduil grumbled, but let him go nonetheless, wincing slightly as Bard pulled out.

He tied off the condom and threw it in the bin, getting a warm flannel to clean them up, being far gentler and more thorough with Thranduil than he bothered with himself. He slipped back into the large bed and Thranduil snuggled into him, throwing his leg over Bard’s and resting his pretty head on Bard’s chest.

Bard fell asleep to the smell of Thranduil’s shampoo and the feel of him wrapped securely around him.

He could get used to it, he wanted to have the chance to get used to it.

 

Bard woke up and pawed at the bed next to him, finding it not only empty but also cold.

Oh god, it was going to be so awkward (he was doing his best to ignore the way it was also making him pretty fucking sad to think Thranduil had left).

He really didn’t want to have to look for a new nanny, Thranduil was _so_ good with the kids. Shit the kids, Bard snatched up his phone and checked the time. Crap. If Thranduil had done a runner and not picked them up then Bard was most definitely late to get them.

He jumped out of bed and pulled on some sweatpants, heading out his room as quickly as he could and faltering at the sight that greeted him when he reached the kitchen.

All three of his kids stuffing themselves with pancakes and laughing as Thranduil failed to flip one, Bard just stood and stared for a few moments, his heart warming further with every passing second.

“There’s the sleepy head.” Thranduil smiled when he saw him and he got a greeting bundle hug from all his kids at once.

Thranduil came over with a pancake for him with cream and strawberries. He kissed Bard gently on the cheek as he handed it over.  

Maybe it was a shitty rom-com after all.

 


	114. Bard pretends to know French

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> How about barduil modern!AU with high school. Thranduil would be one of those popular, rich kids, confident around everyone, but not Bard, outsider, badass-looking guy. Even more fluff, if there would be prom at the end and slow dancing.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard probably needed to revaluate his life choices. No, actually, there was no probably about it. He definitely needed to revaluate his life choices.

Because someone who made sound and sensible life choices would not be in the situation Bard was currently in.

That situation being a walking talking tween movie trope of the outsider with the teeny tiny (tragically huge) crush on the popular rich kid who doesn’t even know he exists.

And apparently Bard was a glutton for punishment because without _any_ permission from his brain his mouth had just offered to help Thranduil with his French despite the fact that Bard’s own French knowledge began and ended with the word _bonjour_.

Transferring school would probably be more painless than the humiliation he would face when Thranduil realised that he did not in fact know any French.

Still, it didn’t stop Bard in attempting to become fluent in the language in one night.

He should call it off, turn up in the library tomorrow and say he couldn’t be bothered or didn’t want to waste his lunchtimes or claim he had better things to do or didn’t have time. But the problem was that when he had – much to just about everyone’s surprise – offered to teach him, Thranduil had looked surprised, but then he had _smiled,_ and not one of his ‘I’m better than you and you know it smirks’ no, and actual smile. So frankly Bard couldn’t be blamed for his actions.

He wouldn’t have even known Thranduil was looking for a French tutor (it wasn’t like they ran in the same circles, wasn’t like Bard even _had_ circles) was because Bard had been walking past while Thranduil had been complaining about needing a French tutor to his friends (subjects?) and Bard had opened his big fat mouth before his brain could stop him.

Anyway, point was he had agreed to meet Thranduil in the library tomorrow at lunchtime to start helping him with his French and he had devised a plan (with transferring schools as a backup).  

The plan was to have a rather focused French lesson and become an expert in one thing, like the past tense or something and maybe steal a textbook from the French department (although Thranduil probably already had one of those) and blag his way through it.

Unfortunately even that involved staying up most of the night to try and learn it.

Honestly who decided Bard should have the ability to speak?

So Bard was running off very strong coffee by the time it got to lunch, making his way to the library felt more like making his way to his death but he still couldn’t stop himself from going.

Bard found Thranduil sat at one of the back tables in the library, secluded and tucked between the stacks were they should be able to get away with talking.

It might be Bard’s imagination, but he thought Thranduil looked particularly good today. His hair was falling in that impossible silver-blonde down his back and around his shoulders, his trousers were much too tight to be suitable for school, and he was wearing a large and loose and incredibly soft looking cardigan.

He smirked when he caught Bard staring a little, successfully jerking Bard out of his thoughts and making him continue walking over to the table.

“You came.” Thranduil commented as Bard plunked down in the chair next to him, trying not to stare at his ridiculous face.

“I said I would.” Bard replied, not entirely sure why Thranduil had thought he wouldn’t come.

“Still, I was surprised when you offered. You’re not taking French, I didn’t know you spoke it.”

 _I don’t_ Bard thought, but he kept that to himself.

“I guess I’m just full of surprises.” Bard answered instead, maybe it would surprise Thranduil to learn he was a big fat liar.

“I certainly hope so.” Was Thranduil response and he was somehow managing to make it sound suggestive and Bard had to violently fight off his blush, but he managed it (barely).

Bard pulled the ‘borrowed’ textbook out of his bag and Thranduil raised an eyebrow as he recognised it as the a-level textbook but thankfully didn’t say anything.

Bard stifled a yawn and sipped some of his disgusting canteen coffee as he pulled some paper out his bag and flipped the textbook to the section on the past tense.

“Late night?” Thranduil asked innocently and the way he was looking at Bard all smug made him fear for a moment that he was caught, but then, why the hell would Thranduil be wasting his lunchtime here if he knew Bard didn’t know any French?

“You could say that.” Bard replied vaguely, trying to avoid building up his lie dump too much. He was a terrible person. “So, how far are you? What are you stuck on?” Bard asked, suddenly realising that it may have been rather pointless to stay up and learn the past tense if Thranduil had no trouble with it whatsoever.

“Oh you know, this and that. I need to brush up on everything, grammar gets me and I can never work out where those little accents go.” Thranduil explained nonchalantly, looking like he was far more interested in studying Bard than French.

“Right. Want to start with the past tense today?” Bard suggested, trying to sound causal, like he could start anywhere if Thranduil wanted. Luckily Thranduil agreed.

“Sure, why not.” He smirked.

Bard started going through the basics with him (basics he was certain Thranduil knew and knew far better than Bard did) but to be honest Thranduil seemed more busy undressing Bard with his eyes than the past tense. Bard was both relived and rather unnerved (not to mention a great deal confused, guys like Thranduil did not go for guys like Bard in reality).

Bard floundered his way through the past tense, more than a little amazed that Thranduil didn’t seem to find it odd that he had a vocabulary of about ten words.

“So, you wanna do this again?” Bard asked awkwardly at the end, scratching the back of his neck nervously.

And why the hell hadn’t he got out when he could just happy this hadn’t been a complete disaster?!

(It was because of the heated looked Thranduil was giving him)

“Definitely.” Thranduil answered, that infuriating(ly hot) smirk firmly in place, and Bard was about to suggest a time when suddenly Thranduil had a hand around his wrist and was pushing up his sleeve and writing his number along Bard’s arm and somehow making that hot, probably by the way he was looking at Bard from under his lashes.

“Text me, call me, sext me. Whatever.” Thranduil said casually, smirking as he left Bard standing there gaping wondering if he’d actually heard Thranduil right.

Bard moved through the rest of the day more than a little distracted (understandably so, he thought), in fact he probably wasn’t really safe to drive his beaten up motorcycle home, but he was there before he had even really computed that he was driving.

The problem was, Bard had no idea if he was serious or just teasing or if he’d dreamed the whole thing and was in fact still asleep right now (that seemed most likely at this point).

Bard had copied the number off his arm and into his phone earlier, fear of it smudging or coming off making Bard rush to do it, but it wasn’t until after dinner that he finally found the courage to send a text. Bard could swear he was usually far cooler than this (well as cool as someone who worked part time in their da’s garage and had messy hair and a beaten up bike could be).

_Hey, it’s Bard. Is tomorrow at lunch okay for you?_

Bard read the text over about ten times before actually sending it. When did he become such a loser? He stoically ignored the way his heart beat a little faster when his phone buzzed just a minuet later.

_Damn, I was hoping for a sext_

Bard stared at the screen dumbly for a few moment, and before he could gather himself a reply (with: _…seriously?)_ he got another message.

_And unfortunately lunchtime is no good for me. After school?_

Thranduil suggested and Bard didn’t know if he was relived or disappointed that he didn’t need to reply directly to the other message.

_I help in my dad’s garage after school. Day after tomorrow at lunch?_

He sent back, trying and failing not to stare at his phone until he got a reply (luckily it didn’t take long).

_Sure. How about Monday, Tuesday and Thursday lunchtimes in general. Unless you have somewhere better to be of course._

Thranduil suggested and Bard really should stop this now because he _didn’t bloody well know French,_ but he was an idiot, so he didn’t. More terrible life choices on Bard’s part.

 _I don’t_.

Bard sent before he could think better of it.

_Then it’s a date. Night Bard._

Thranduil declared, Bard could perfectly imagine the smirk he probably had, another text came through before Bard could respond again.

_I’m still waiting on that sext btw._

Bard found himself grinning this time, Thranduil seemed almost…playful by text. After all, he couldn’t actually be serious.

_Night ;)_

Bard replied, settling down into bed and setting his alarm for the next morning, passed out within moments of his head hitting the pillow.

The next morning he got back to worrying about the fact that he did not know French.

Well, apparently he would be attempting to learn.

He managed to scrape up knowledge on the future tense for the next ‘lesson’. He was fairly sure half of it was wrong, but Thranduil looked so _good_ that Bard couldn’t help himself and struggled his way through another bullshit French lesson. Also he was really funny in his own snarky way, and very intelligent (in everything other than French apparently).

He ended up finding out a lot about him, and with every new piece of information, Bard fell a little harder and agreed to the next session, where Thranduil would proceed to look at it with thinly veiled interest, (Bard still didn’t ask him out because he still had no idea if the fucker was being serious or not).

And so that was how it went, Bard pretending he knew French (he still did not, languages were not his forte) (and Thranduil must really be _terrible_ at it if he hadn’t noticed that yet) while Thranduil paid far more attention to him than the French.

They texted most nights as well, Thranduil usually managing to make something dirty and joking (?!?!) about still waiting on a sext. Bard was beginning to wonder if that was just the way Thranduil was and if it had nothing to do with him whatsoever.

Still, they had been at it for over a month and they were getting to the end of term (hell, end of school forever for them) and Bard was completely unequipped to teach Thranduil any of the more complex parts of French (what was he even talking about he had been completely unequipped to teach Thranduil any French at all). He really should stop the lessons. God if Thranduil failed his exam he would feel so damn guilty.

But he. Just. Couldn’t. Help. Himself.

Today, Thranduil seemed bored and even a little irritated, which he had never been before (okay he was every day at school, but he had never been with Bard before). He was fixing Bard with an impatient look as Bard attempted to conjugate a verb he had never seen before.

And that was when Thranduil suddenly spouted what sounded like fucking _perfect_ French.

 _“Je commence à me demander si tu vas un jour m’inviter à sortir.”_ Thranduil said with crossed arms, a raised eyebrow and an accent like liquid gold.

Bard gaped at him and Thranduil picked up his bag and swept out the room. 

 _But what the hell had he said?!_ Bard was very close to chasing after him just to ask, instead he scribbled down what the thought Thranduil had just said (in French he did not understand, so the sounds he had made at least).

Bard stared at the words that made no sense to him that he had scrawled on the paper and desperately wanted to know what they meant.

Bard swallowed his pride and walked to the French department, knocking on the office door.

“…Bard?” The teacher that answered the door, Mr Peredhel, struggled to remember Bard’s name but somehow managed it, despite the fact he hadn’t taken the subject in almost four years. “Can I help you?” He asked with a smile and Bard was beyond grateful it was him who had answered the door because he actually got along with this teacher.

“I was wondering if maybe you could translate this for me?” Bard asked awkwardly, handing over the paper that was probably more gibberish than French, Mr Peredhel took it with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a little garbled and misspelt.” He commented as he looked over the paper.

“Yeah. I copied it from what someone said.” Bard explained vaguely.

“And why, pray tell, was someone speaking French to you?” Mr Peredhel asked, Bard had hoped he wouldn’t realise the oddity.

“Um it was Thranduil. He um, needed a tutor and I…” Bard trailed off, embarrassed and hoping he didn’t get in trouble.

“You don’t speak French.” Mr Peredhel pointed out.

“No.” Bard answered, hoping he wouldn’t have to explain, and Mr Peredhel’s knowing smile told him that he wouldn’t. “Sorry about that. I shouldn’t have said I could speak French.” Bard said, worrying again about Thranduil’s exam, even if he had seemed perfectly competent just now…

“He shouldn’t have claimed he needed a tutor.” Mr Peredhel told him with a smile and before Bard could double treble check he had caught his meaning, he continued. “By the way, it says ‘I am beginning to wonder if you are ever going to ask me out someday’.” He informed Bard, and with another one of those knowing smiles, he gave him back the paper and retreated back into the office.

Bard stood there for a little while, attempting to process what Mr Peredhel had just said. No. What _Thranduil_ had just said.

He actually had wanted Bard to ask him out. He had been serious. And it sounded like he was actually very good at French, and had only wanted Bard to ask him out.

That meant he had watched Bard struggle through pretending to know French. Bastard.

Unfortunately, before he could do anything about anything, the bloody bell rang forcing him to go to last period instead. It was okay, he could use the time hatch a plot.

At the end of the lesson (that Bard had paid precisely zero attention to) Bard cornered Thranduil’s friend Tauriel before she could leave.

“Can I help you?” She asked with a perfectly sculpted raised eyebrow.

“Yeah. Where does Thranduil live?” Bard asked, cutting straight to the chase, Tauriel smiled.

“It’s about time. He’s 35 Greenwood Road, you know it?” She asked.

“You mean the area with all the obscene mansions.” Bard replied, doing his best not to feel intimidated.

“That would be the place.” She grinned. “Do you need me to say go get him tiger, or something equally encouraging?” She joked, making Bard snort.

“Thanks but no.” He laughed, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on as he started his jog to his motorbike, before realising that he shouldn’t rush because he didn’t want to beat Thranduil to his own house, he forced himself to walk even though excitement and adrenalin were trying to force him to run.

“Go get him tiger!” Tauriel called after him anyway, Bard laughed, throwing her an answering grin over his shoulder.

By some not so small miracle, Bard managed not to crash his bike on the drive over, parking it outside number 35 and forcing himself not to lose his nerve even though the size of Thranduil’s ridiculous mansion made all the other ridiculous mansions look small.

Bard’s hand had already hit the doorbell when he realised that he had absolutely no idea what he was about to say. Why couldn’t he just think things through like a normal person?  Before he could come up with _anything_ the door swung open to reveal someone who could only be Thranduil’s father (the hair was a dead give away) he regarded Bard with a raised eyebrow.

“Um, hi. Is Thranduil home?” Bard asked, grabbing off his sunglasses and trying not to focus on just how out of place he looked here with his messy hair and worn jeans and tired jacket and a bike that looked like it could give up at any moment. Thranduil’s father watched him curiously for another few moments before turning and calling into the house.

“Ionneg.” He called in what sounded suspiciously like a French accent.

“Yes ada?” Thranduil called back, their voices were carrying through the large house despite not seeming to shout.

“That boy you like is here.” Thranduil’s father told him, before directing another curious smile at Bard and leaving him in the doorway, disappearing back into the house.

Bard was beginning to wonder if he should have followed, but before long Thranduil appeared in the doorway, he half expected him to be embarrassed after what his father said, but instead he just looked cool and collected as always, leaning on the doorframe and somehow making that look hot.

“You don’t need a French tutor.” Bard stated, trying his best not to get distracted by the really tight trousers Thranduil was wearing today seriously was that necessary?!

“You don’t speak French.” Thranduil pointed out, and Bard could swear there was a smirk desperately trying to quirk at his lips.

“True. But why did you say you needed one?” Bard challenged.

“You misheard.” Thranduil stated simply, looking a little amused.

“I heard you complaining about needing a tutor.” Bard protested, a little confused.

“No, you heard me complaining about being asked by the department to tutor other people.” Thranduil replied, and he really was smirking now.

“…oh.”

“I must say though, I’m quite impressed.”

“By what?” Bard huffed, trying not to adopt the shade of a tomato from embarrassment.

“At how atrocious your French still is, even after trying to teach it.” Thranduil teased, that wonderful smirk of his firmly in place.

“Yeah, whatever. You could have put me out of my misery.” Bard griped indignantly, but there was no heat in it.

“Oh, I don’t you. You didn’t look to miserable to me.” Thranduil commented, voice flirtatious.

“The company was exquisite.” Bard teased right back.

“I’ll say.” Thranduil agreed, eyes sparking with mischief.

“One last thing?” Bard added.

“Yes?”

“Come on a date with me.”

“Right now?” Thranduil asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Right this second.” Bard grinned, getting one of those rare genuine smiles out of Thranduil.

“Ada, I’m going out.” Thranduil called into the house as he elegantly slipped on some high boots and stepped out the door.

“Do you wanna take your car?” Bard asked, knowing his crappy bike wasn’t ideal transport, especially next to Thranduil’s impressive array of cars.

“Are you kidding, I’ve been wanting you to take me for a ride on this thing since you first got it.” Thranduil replied, walking over to the bike and swinging his indecently longs over it, leaving room for Bard in front of him.

“It’s a piece of junk.” Bard laughed, it had been since he’d got it as he’d bought probably fourth-hand.

“And yet with you riding it, it becomes unbearably sexy.” Thranduil fixed him with a look that was practically hungry.

“You’re one to talk.” Bard laughed again as he looked at Thranduil with his legs straddling the seat and trying not to let his mind wander (he failed, and Thranduil was giving him a smirk that told him he knew exactly what he had been thinking).  

Bard got onto the bike in front of Thranduil, thoroughly enjoying the way he pushed himself up against Bard’s back and splayed his hands over his abdomen.

“You know.” Thranduil murmured directly into his ear as he started up the bike. “As much as I already like this bike. I think I’d much rather be riding you.”

Bard almost crash the bike before they’d even pulled away. He reached around and swatted Thranduil’s leg.

“Unless you want to crash and become another statistic, then keep that pretty mouth shut.” Bard ordered before pulling away.

Thranduil did not keep his mouth shut, and Bard was torn between being relieved and disappointed that he didn’t understand any of the French that was being whispered into his ear as they drove.

When Bard pulled up outside a French restaurant, Thranduil had to muffle his laugh in the back of Bard’s neck.  

The food was great even if Bard couldn’t pronounce any of it and he drove Thranduil home at a respectable time (much to Thranduil’s disappointment) and kissed him goodnight tauntingly chastely (much to Thranduil’s disappointment).

But much to Thranduil’s delight (if the smile and thorough kissing Bard was currently getting in the middle of the corridor was any indication) Bard asked him to prom the next day.  

That turned a few heads, they were a rather mismatched pair. Bard loved it.

Bard picked him up for prom on his motorbike, even though it would have made far more sense to have taken Thranduil car, especially give Thranduil’s _impeccable_ and expensive looking tux, but these days he pouted whenever they took something other than the bike that was most definitely going to break down on them at some point.

Somehow, Thranduil’s hair was still perfect by the time he got there, although at this point Bard didn’t know why it still surprised him. And Bard’s hair was terrible so he pulled it up into quick bun which Thranduil looked at very approvingly (and when he had first seen Bard in his rented tux he had looked like it was taking all his restraint not to rip it back off him right there and then).

And they were dancing, well, swaying in each other’s arms because Bard could not dance for shit, but it didn’t matter because his arms where around Thranduil and they were dancing slowly and somehow Thranduil’s lips found his and then they were kissing and Bard knew he was falling in love.

No, he already was.

Luckily, Bard had learnt one thing in French.  

“ _Je t’amie_.” Bard murmured against Thranduil’s neck, pressing a kiss there alongside his words.

“ _Je t’aime aussi_.” Thranduil breathed, Bard understood that as well.

Maybe Bard wasn’t so bad at making life choices after all.

 


	115. Bard and Thranduil bake a cake (while drunk)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Barduil Modern AU prompt: Thranduil and Bard get drunk and decide to make a cake. And by they I mean Bard who does most of the cooking who ends up getting most of the ingredients on himself and Thranduil makes comments and complaints to Bard. They end up making out against the counter or on the floor when they are interrupted by Leoglas or Tauriel with the Bardlings or all of them. 
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Shhhh!” Thranduil whispered dramatically, a finger pressed almost comically to his lips as Bard tripped over his own feet with a yelp.

“Sooorry.” Bard whispered back (well, it was pretty loud whispering, but the intention was there).

“Bard I’m hungry.” Thranduil complained, fumbling for Bard’s hand and trying to drag them both to the kitchen.

“You’re never hungry. You exist of air and lettuce.” Bard stated, both of them tripping a little as they walked.

“I am now, wine makes me hungry. Bake me something.” Thranduil asked him (ordered him) voice whiny and listing onto Bard who was in turn leaning on the wall.

“You can’t have sweeties before main course.” Bard declared firmly even as he was pushed into the kitchen.

“I don’t want a main I just want some cake.” Thranduil insisted, nudging Bard over to the work surface.

“I don’t have any cake.” Bard replied dumbly.

“That’s why I asked you to bake it.” Thranduil said again, attempting to roll his eyes.

“Oh right! Okay. I need…flour!” Bard remembered smiling, Thranduil gave him a blank look.

“Well I don’t know where it is!” Thranduil protested, hopping (and missing a few times) up to sit on the counter.

“You’re just a lazy potato is what you are.” Bard grumbled, stumbling over to the cupboard.

“I am not a potato!” Thranduil protested indignantly, crossing his arms like an angry five year old.

“You’re right, more like a cat.” Bard decided as he found some eggs (he dropped one but it was okay they had some more).

“ _Meow_.” Thranduil snickered from where he had decided to sit on the countertop and they dissolved into giggles for a while, Bard attempted to muffle his in Thranduil’s stomach, but that only made Thranduil louder.

“Shhhh. You’re gunna wake the kiddies.” Bard whispered (very loudly) trying to smother Thranduil’s laughs in his hand.

Thranduil licked his hand.

“Ewwww! Are you four!” Bard yelled before clamping a hand over his own mouth.

“Oh when I lick your hand it’s terrible! But when I lick your chest it’s sexy! What a double standard!” Thranduil complained. “How am I supposed to keep up with where I can and can’t lick.”

“It’s different king of licking.” Bard stated matter of factly, slurring his words as he had been all evening. “One is the yummy yummy kind that leads to mouths in even better places, and the other is the gross I’m licking you so you let go kind.” Bard explained, grinning at his logic as he started mixing his ingredients, most of it ending up out the bowl.

Thranduil clattered down from the counter with none of his usual elegance an plastered himself against Bard’s back and started licking his next and nibbling on his ear making Bard feel even warmer than the wine had.

“Is ‘is the good kind?” Thranduil asked, also slurring his words as he tongued at Bard’s pulse point.

“Yes. Very. But not if you want cake.” Bard grinned and with a very dramatic sigh Thranduil let go.

“But Baaaard.” He whined, nudging against Bard again.

“Cake or sex. You can’t be having both. You’re too spoilt already.” Bard declared, although thinking about it he actually wanted both cake and se as well.

“Can’t I have my cake and eat you too.” Thranduil grinned, finding himself amusing, Bard rolled his eyes and carried on mixing before flicking a spoonful at Thranduil, landing with a splat against his cheek.

“Bard!” He gasped wiping at his face but Bard batted him out the way and licked it off his face.

Thranduil’s eyes glinted and he stuck his hand in the cake mix and smeared it on Bard’s neck, both of them back to giggling.

“Isn’t cake mix bad for puny mortals?” Thranduil asked, his voice all smug even as it was slurred and muffled by Bard’s neck.

“We don’t all have your freakish immune system, and I am not puny!” Bard protested.

“No you are not.” Thranduil grinned his hand sneaking clumsily between them, but frankly they were both a bit too drunk for anything to be happening quickly in the pants department. “But I could still beat you in a fight.”

“Could not!”

“Could too!”

“Could not!”

“Could too!”

Bard finished the exchange by splatting Thranudil in the face with a hand full of cake mix, Thranduil stood shocked for a second before grabbing a handful of flour and throwing it at Bard, then there was sugar and more mix and the odd egg and even more of the mix and then they were kissing.

But Bard refused to be so easily distracted from a fight just because he particularly liked Thranduil’s mouth and he groped around looking for something, before breaking an egg over Thranduil’s head, all over that pretty hair.

“Oops.” Bard snickered at Thranduil before bursting into hysterical laughter at his scandalised expression.

Thranduil tried to stay mad, but really it didn’t take long for him to start laughing too and then they were both descending into giggles once again and Bard was reeling him in for more kisses because he really was very fond of Thranduil’s kisses even if he tasted of a weird combination of cake mx and raw ingredients. Oh well, Bard was a little too drunk to care, and so was Thranduil. So instead they just supported each other as they shared sloppy kisses and stupid smiles and even more giggles.

Until they were rudely interrupted anyway.

“What the frick is going on down here.” Came the disgruntled voice of Sigrid, Thranduil and Bard just carried on kissing.

Enjoying themselves before they got told off by their kiddies.

“Ada! Da! What the hell happened!” Legolas demanded, Tilda was next to him rubbing sleep out her eyes and Bain looked a little grossed out (probably because of the kissing).

Thranduil and Bard descended back into rounds of giggles.

They made apology pancakes in the morning.

 


	116. The bardlings talk to Thranduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> Thranduil has been showing interest in Bard and Bard is starting to notice. But his kids notice first, and they don't like seeing their dad hurt so they intercept Thranduil and have a talk with him. And maybe Bard overhears the end of the talk and Thranduil's response to the children. Maybe the story is from one of the children's pov?
> 
> Rated: G

 

Sigrid has always been perceptive, something she most definitely got from her mother. Her da was so oblivious that he was only starting to notice the Elvenking’s rather obvious interest.   

Weren’t elves supposed to be subtle and stealthy? Then again, maybe Thranduil was just compensating for her da’s obliviousness.

Either way, it was working in her favour at the moment, because she wanted to speak to Thranduil, which was a little daunting because he was a very intimidating person. But let it never be said that Sigrid would shy away from a challenge.

But still, Sigrid wasn’t afraid to fight dirty, which was why she was knocking on Tilda’s door and poking her head inside.

“Til?” Sigrid pulled Tilda’s attention away from the drawing she was doing on her bed.

“Hmmm?” She asked, apparently still more interested in what colour she should use than what Sigrid had to say (not that she was particularly surprised).

Sigrid wandered into the room and sat down on the bed with her sister, picking up a dark blue and handing it to her, she took it with a smile.

“Til, have you noticed anything about king Thranduil?” Sigrid asked, and it was a completely leading question, but it would hopefully get the right response, she knew that Tilda spent a lot of time with Thranduil, they seemed very fond of each other.

“He has very pretty hair.” Tilda answered absently, and that was not what Sigrid had been going for.

“I mean have you noticed anything about King Thranduil and da.” Sigrid clarified.

“I think he likes da.” Tilda told her, still mainly focused on her drawing, which Sigrid was pretty sure was them all playing on the hillside.

“I think so too.” Sigrid agreed carefully.

“Does that mean we’ll get two da’s?” Tilda asked, face full of excitement.

“Maybe.” Sigrid smiled. “If da ever notices that is?”

“He’s silly, he likes Thranduil too you know.” Tilda stated simply, and she was right, da was just sensationally bad at realising he wasn’t in fact in it alone.

“Yes he is silly, he’s our da. And I know, but I’m more worried about Thranduil hurting him.” Sigrid said, hoping Tilda would catch on.

“Why would he hurt da?” Tilda asked, face scrunched up in confusion.

“I don’t think he would mean to. But sometimes when people like each other they hurt each other.” Sigrid explained, their da had already been hurt enough when their ma died, she didn’t want to see that ever again.

“What do you mean?” Tilda asked, still looking confused.

“I mean if for example da fell in love with Thranduil– ”

“He already does.” Tilda interrupted, and to be honest she was probably right, she was right far too often for someone so little.

“Yes well. Then if Thranduil liked him but didn’t love him the same that would hurt da.” Sigrid tried to explain, knowing it didn’t make much sense really as what she was actually worried about was that da would fall in love and Thranduil would decide it wasn’t worth it given the inevitable future (something she would never blame him for but that would hurt da, she wanted him to know before he started something he wasn’t prepared to finish).

“Oh.” Tilda frowned again. “Well can we stop that happening?”

“I was thinking we could go talk to Thranduil maybe?” Sigrid suggested.

“That sounds like a good idea!” Tilda smiled, bouncing up from the bed and grabbing Sigrid’s hand, tugging her to the door.

They were walking down one of the corridors in their new house in Dale when they came across their brother.

“Bain!” Tilda shouted happily, getting his attention.

“Yeah? Where are you two going?” He asked with a curious look.

“We’re going to make sure King Thranduil isn’t going to hurt da.” Tilda smiled, grabbing her brother’s hand and pulling him along with them.  

Bain gave Sigrid a look and Sigrid just grinned, she knew Tilda had been a good idea.

“Okay then.” Bain agreed easily, both of them letting Tilda lead the way, even though none of them had any idea where the Elvenking was.

Actually he was probably wherever their da was.

Damn, they needed to get him alone.

And indeed they did find him in their da’s study, but luckily, their oblivious da was nowhere in sight.

“Hello little ones.” Thranduil smiled, turning as they clattered into the room with none of the grace of the elves, he was always genuinely pleased to see them. “How can I help you?” He asked as Tilda scampered over and hopped into his lap.

Maybe Sigrid had underestimated how close Tilda and Thranduil were already, oh well, it would only work in their favour at the moment.

“Are you going to hurt da?” Tilda piped up with absolutely no context, leaving Thranduil looking a little confused.

“Oh course not pen-neth, why would you think that?” Thranduil asked, concern mixed with confusion on his face.

“Because you might not like him the same way he likes you.” Tilda said and Thranduil looked up to Sigrid and Bain for clarification.

“We just mean that we don’t want to see our da get hurt, and he _really_ likes you and you seem to like him but just– ” Sigrid faltered, unsure how to phrase it.

“Just make sure you know what you’re getting into and aren’t going to bolt the minute he gets a wrinkle.” Bain finished dryly and well, that was one way of putting it, Thranduil at least seemed to finally understand.

“I’ve thought about it for a while. I’m not going anywhere, not if your father or you three don’t want me too.” Thranduil answered simply and surely and only a little quietly, maybe saying it out loud, promising them had made it more real for him as well.

“Then you’ll stay forever!” Tilda yelled, flinging her arms around Thranduil’s neck happily, Sigrid noticed the sad flicker in his eye at the word ‘forever’, but when he say her looking, he just smiled at her, firm and reassuring, he had made his choice.

Thranduil, much to Tilda’s delight, started braiding her hair without having to be asked, Sigrid and Bain decided to leave them to it, although Sigrid fully intended to get him to do her hair like that as well at some point.

They were just a few paces out of the room when they were grabbed and pulled into a hug, they knew it was their da and joining in the bear hug, their da burying his face in their hair.

“I do not deserve you guys.” Bard said, holding them tight.

“Don’t you waste any more time.” Sigrid said instead, because they didn’t have enough.

Bard held them a little tighter before letting them go and going back into the room.

Sigrid saw Thranduil’s surprise when Bard greeted him by leaning over Tilda and kissing his cheek, she also saw the way neither of them would stop smiling.

She thought she had been pretty successful.  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys, I was away for a week with friends - friends I met on tumbles due to my stupid writing in fact ;) - and then I went sailing in the rain for a few days with another friend, but I am back!! 
> 
> In theory this could be a bit of a busy week as I have meetings with supervisors and am moving out of uni and what not, but I shall endeavour to update everyday anyway ^.^


	117. Dog walking shenanigans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Could I ask for a modern au where Thran is a jogger and Bard is at a dog park and his dog gets loose and shenanigans ensues and ends in one of them asking the other for a date?
> 
> Rated: G

 

“Codi, stay close.” Bard called as his Labrador went bounding off, managing to keep his attention somewhat by throwing is ball.

Codi ran back happily and dropped his now slobber covered ball on the floor at Bard’s feet, he really needed to invest in a flinger because that was disgusting. Bard kicked it that time instead of throwing it, luckily he had a good kick and Codi didn’t seem to mind, chasing after it all the same.

Bard wandered around the park kicking Codi’s ball for him to chase, scanning the park for absolutely no one in particular.

That was a lie.

Bard came to this park despite the fact it was further from his house because Codi loved it, and it was bigger, there were more trees and less kids, and it had absolutely nothing to do with the beautiful blonde jogger that had just come around the corner.

Absolutely nothing.

It wasn’t Bard’s fault anyway, he had these unfairly long legs and this cascade of silver blonde hair that was always intricately braided back and swishing along behind him, Bard could only imagine what it looked like down and loose, he wanted to find out so he could run his hands through it, he bet it felt like silk.

His face was something else entirely, Bard had never seen anything like it. All high cheek bones and haughty elegance, snowy skin and thick dark brows, piercing blue eyes and a pouty red mouth.

He ran with such easy elegance, graceful limbs making it seem like he was gliding more than running. He had never seen anyone look so good when they were slightly sweaty either. He looked good enough to eat.

And right now Bard’s ridiculous dog was bounding up to the beautiful jogger and dropping his ball at his feet, halting his running and wagging his tail playfully. The man smiled and crouched down, stroking Codi’s head and scratching behind his ears.

“Hello beautiful, what’s your name.” The man asked, Codi wagging even faster.

“It’s Codi.” Bard answered as he came over to them.

“Oh, and what’s the dog’s name?” He add with a wink and Bard was caught between laughing and blushing. “Okay, I know he’s Codi, but what is your name?”

“Bard, you?” Bard answered, and Codi was going to get some serious treats later for being the reason he was talking to this beautiful stranger.  

“Hello Bard, I’m Thranduil.” He smirked. Thranduil. That was an unusual name, it suited him perfectly.

“Sorry about Codi.”

“Nonsense, he was just being friendly, weren’t you Codi.” Thranduil grinned, ruffling Codi’s fur.

At that point Codi nudged his ball with his nose at Thranduil, making the man laugh.

“I would kick it not throw it if I were you, it’s a bit soggy.” Bard laughed as Thranduil reached for it.

“Not to worry.” Thranduil smiled, picking it up and managing to throw it a remarkably long way, before slipping his hand into his pocket and producing some hand sanitizer, somehow, Bard wasn’t surprised.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ve got to dash.” Thranduil told him, and with another wink, he was off, Codi giving a pathetic little whimper as he ran off.

“Me too Codi, me too.” Bard sighed, stroking his head and continuing their walk, unable to shift Thranduil from his mind all day long.

God he was such a loser.

And indeed Bard did see Thranduil the next day, stopping to throw Codi’s ball a couple of times and flirt openly with Bard (Bard met him flirt for flirt of course, apparently not as rusty at all this as he had feared – or of course he was but Thranduil found it amusing, both were equally possible).

And Thranduil would leave with a somehow teasing ‘I’ll see you tomorrow’ and a pathetic whimper from Codi (and internally from Bard). Bard could swear it was only a matter of time before either Bard or Codi chased after him.

He hadn’t actually be planning on going to that park on Saturday, it was the weekend so he normally went to the park the kids preferred, but well, change was good right? And Thranduil had said ‘see you tomorrow’ and Bard hadn’t corrected him, he didn’t want to be rude after all.

Besides it’s not like they didn’t like this one, it just didn’t have such a good playground, but it was okay because they were all just playing with the dog instead, Codi loved it when he had the full attention of his family.

And Bard was doing an excellent job of rationalising why he was in this park without mentioning Thranduil once, even though he was clearly the reason.

Thranduil, who was actually nowhere to be found today. Damn. Bard was at the park at the time he always was, at the same time Thranduil always was, where was he?

Codi was between the four of them, chasing after the football they were kicking between them, Tilda giggling when Codi broke off his chase in favour of nuzzling at her instead. Really Bard was pretty sure Codi was only humouring them by chasing the ball, enjoying playing with them, but he would probably much prefer to be off rummaging around in the undergrowth, or finding something disgusting to roll in.

But apparently that was a damming thought because that very second Codi went blundering off at top speed, crashing through the bushes and out of sight.   

All four of them winced when they heard some barking, followed by a yelp, and what sounded like someone falling down.

Codi wasn’t usually like this.

The four of them all looked at each other before making a run in the direction of Codi.

“Codi! For god sake what have you done!” Bard yelled as he crashed through the very same bush Codi had, no doubt getting twigs and leaves in his hair as he went. “Come back!”

And when he broke through the bushes the sight that greeted him was Thranduil sitting on the ground with Codi jumping around and barking at him happily between licking at his face.

Thranduil seemed to have accepted his fate was just taking it, trying to settle Codi down by stroking him. He looked up when he saw Bard shoving his way through the bush and raised an amused eyebrow. Thank god it was amused.

“Shit Thran, sorry. Codi get off him.” Bard exclaimed more than a little embarrassed and unable to get his dog to stop bouncing around Thranduil.

“I think he’s pleased to see me.” Thranduil commented and well, Bard couldn’t really argue with that. “Is he the only one?” Thranduil teased and Bard grinned back, apparently Thranduil liked dogs – or at least Codi – enough to forgive them for flattening him to the floor.

“No.” Bard grinned as he helped Thranduil up off the floor, he found he rather liked the feeling of Thranduil’s ivory smooth hand in his own darker, rougher one.

“Are you actually planning on doing anything about that?” Thranduil asked, teasing smirk firmly in place on those lips, Bard wanted to kiss it off.

“What would you suggest?” Bard teased right back, Thranduil not bothering to take a step back after being helped up, leaving them standing really rather close.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to dinner.” Thranduil said with faux nonchalance as he picked twigs out of Bard’s hair.

“Thranduil, would you like to go to dinner with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” Thranduil smiled, and for a wonderful second Bard thought he was about to get kissed by this beautiful man, and maybe he would have, if a little voice hadn’t piped up and interrupted them.

“Well. At least now we know why we’re at this park and not the usual one.” Sigrid said, making her brother, sister and Thranduil all laugh and Bard to blush the approximate shade of a tomato.

It became their usual park rather quickly though.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it's been a while since I posted one of these! Life got cray, but I'm still going and working on all my longfics too ^.^


	118. Legolas come for a visit

 

“Bard?” Thranduil called through the house, his voice carrying easily to Bard in their bedroom despite the fact Thranduil hardly seemed to have raised it at all.

“Yes love?” Bard called back, knowing Thranduil’s sensitive ears would pick it up easily.

“What did you do with that nice deep blue tunic I got you?” He asked as he wandered silently into the room, luckily by now Bard had developed a sixth sense for Thranduil so he didn’t jump at his sudden appearance in the room.

“It’s already back in your halls in the Greenwood.” Bard answered easily,

“Oh, right.”

“Shouldn’t I, the mere mortal, be the one who forgets where things are?” Bard joked, placing a quick kiss to Thranduil’s lips.

“You pay for more attention to those things than me. Probably the result of three children.” Thranduil pointed out and he was probably right, Bard was used to having to keep track of everything.

“Not children anymore.” Bard pointed out, Tilda had left the nest just a few months ago, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stop moping if Thranduil hadn’t been there.

But then, they were rarely apart these days.

They both knew why, even if they never spoke of it. Thranduil didn’t want to waste a single moment, because it was all going to be over far too soon.  

But now was not the time to linger on that, even if they probably should talk about it at some point, because right now was a happy time.

Legolas was coming home for a visit, and Thranduil had been looking forward to it for weeks. He missed his son ever day he was gone, even if a single day was nothing to an elf.

But then, Thranduil had been given a change in perception on the value of a single day. Being with a mortal had done that to him.

Bard did his best to not look too far into the future.

But, anyway, now was a happy time, he wasn’t going to ruin it with morbid thoughts. Instead he was getting ready to return to Thranduil’s halls ready for Legolas’ visit.

Sigrid, Bain and Tilda were going to meet them there in a couple of days, Bard couldn’t wait to have the whole family back together again, it had been far too long.

“You’re practically vibrating out your skin with excitement.” Bard chuckled as Thranduil stood next to him as he packed his small bag (he had plenty of things already in Mirkwood anyway). 

“A king does not ‘vibrate with excitement’, I am far too composed for that.” Thranduil replied haughtily, but Bard could see his lips quirking in that smile of his and gave him an indulgent look before reeling him in for another kiss.

“You’re allowed to be excited about your son coming home, whether you’re a king or not, you’re still a father first.” Bard reminded him, knowing they both had their priorities sorted in that department.

“A father first.” Thranduil agreed with a small smile, when he had made it clear to Legolas that he was and always would be a father, no matter how emotionally constipated he was (Bard’s words not Thranduil’s) it had been like a dam breaking between Legolas and him.

It had been a while since they saw Legolas, he made an effort to pay them a visit fairly often but still it had almost been an entire year this time. Thranduil hadn’t stopped making arrangement since they got his letter telling them he would be coming home for a few weeks.  

“Come on Bard.” Thranduil whined, getting more and more impatient, tugging at Bard’s clothes like a bored small child.

“You know, us leaving early will not make Legolas arrive earlier.” Bard chuckled, but he closed his bag and let Thranduil take his hand and head down the stairs, wanting to get going.

He would of course just be bouncing around waiting for Legolas to arrive there instead, but Bard couldn’t begrudge him wanting to get going, knowing he would probably be even worse if their positions were reversed.

So they started the now familiar journey between Bard’s home and Thranduil’s, well, just their homes at this point. Thranduil was even riding slightly faster than usual, Bard just smiled and sped up to keep up.

When back in the elven halls Thranduil was all but watching the door waiting for Legolas, even though he wasn’t due until tomorrow. He managed to distract Thranduil enough to get him to eat dinner and by now he was rather adept at enticing him into bed as well (not that that took much).

It was a testament to just how excited Thranduil was by the fact he was awake and out of bed before Bard when he usually had trouble getting the Elvenking out of bed before noon.

Bard smiled and joined him where he was waiting just outside the great doors marking the entrance to his halls, Thranduil no doubt seeing far further into the forest than Bard could.

Luckily, Legolas arrived fairly early in the day, meaning they weren’t waiting outside all day for him to get to them.

And Bard couldn’t keep the smile off his face for the rest of the day, Thranduil was never happier than when he had his son back. Bard understood, especially as Thranduil had confided everything in him long ago, and he knew it hadn’t been this easy between them since Legolas’ mother died.

Bard was glad, glad that there would be Legolas there for Thranduil when Bard passed. Otherwise he would be scared, scared for what Thranduil might do, or rather let happen.

But now was not the time to dwell on these thoughts.

On the second day of Legolas’ visit they decided to spend it in the forest, Legolas sighing, Bard understood, he head the same conflict sound from Thranduil as well. He knew what it was, caught between loving the forest because it was home and hating the way it was turning dark.

Bard was careful not to ever refer to it as Mirkwood nowadays, he knew Thranduil hated hearing it called that. He still tried to see Greenwood the Great. Most of the time he succeeded, but even though they refused a guard, they never left completely unarmed. 

But the forest deserved the name Mirkwood these days, and today they were reminded of why.  

They were wandering through the forest when they were ambushed by a cluster of spiders. They had been getting larger and more aggressive every year. But they were used to them by now, even fairly used to the ambushes.

Bard drew his bow and shot arrow after arrow at the spiders surrounding him, while Thranduil drew his single sword, slashing them down with a look of pure hatred. Their presence in his forest disgusted him, but he was not certain of the dangers of taking a force down to kill them at the source, as it was, it was so very rare for them to lose a single elf on patrols that he believed it was not worth the risk of going to Dol Guldur.

They fought on autopilot, so used to their little skirmishes now, not thinking beyond their normal routine.

The fight probably only took them a total of five minutes, a lot can happen in five minutes. You can forget a lot in five minutes.

Like how Legolas had been ahead of them.

How hadn’t been carrying his bow.

Or his sword.

Not even his daggers.

They only remembered when they turned to see Legolas looking down at his chest, where the tip of an ungoliant’s sting could be seen.

It took Bard a while to understand what he was seeing, even as the blackened blood spread out across Legolas’ clothes.

He didn’t get it until Legolas collapsed to the floor.

There was a strangled scream from next to him, Legolas’ fall unfreezing Thranduil as well as Bard, and Thranduil was rushing over to his fallen son.

Bard raced over, just steps behind Thranduil. Legolas’ breath was coming in rattles, poisoned blood was spilling over his lips.

It was too late.

It was already too late.

Thranduil was cradling his son, sobbing freely into his hair.

“We’ll get you home. You’ll be fine. It’s not that bad. You’ll be okay.” Thranduil cooed, desperately trying to be comforting to his son but his voice was broken and shaking and terrified.

He tried to lift him and Legolas cried out, all the remaining colouring draining from his face. Immediately Thranduil stopped trying to move him with a helpless noise.

There was nothing they could do.

By the time they had got help Legolas would be dead, carrying him back to the halls was only going to kill him faster.

There was nothing they could do.

“It’s okay, we won’t move you, it’s okay. Someone will come look for us in a little while. It’ll be okay.” Thranduil babbled, tears falling freely into Legolas’ hair as Bard gripped onto Legolas’ hand as tightly as he could.

But no matter how they held on he was slipping away.

“Stay with me, Legolas, _please_.” Thranduil wept, holding Legolas tight still, his glamour had gone entirely.

With the last of his energy Legolas found his father’s hand and gave it a feeble squeeze.

Legolas eyes were shining with unshed tears, and smile was forming on his lips, Bard only understood when he spoke, voice strained and broken, barely audible.

“I can see naneth, ada, I can see her.” Legolas breathed, and it was the last time his chest rose in this life.

Bard saw Thranduil fracture in front of his eyes.

The devastated keen he made made Bard want to be sick, even more so than he already did.

He didn’t release his son, he held him tighter. Refused to let go of his lifeless son.

He didn’t speak. Bard knew he could not have gotten the words out through his tears.

He didn’t move. Just sat there on the forest ground.

Bard’s face was went, his chest hurt, they needed to grieve. They needed to move.

He tried to coax Thranduil into standing but he would not move. He didn’t even look like he could see Bard.

Bard gave up, he sat in the dirt with Thranduil and just held him, offered what measly comfort he could.

It wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Eventually someone came looking for them. Bard had no concept of how long they had been there.

They were not prepared for what they found.

Thranduil told them to leave. His voice was vicious and cutting. Cold. They didn’t dare disobey.

It took long hours. But Thranduil stood, let Bard coax him into standing. He carried his son’s body in his arms all the way back to the halls.

No one surpassed their gasps as they walked past.

It happened in stages after that.

Bard knew what was happening from the start, Thranduil was letting go. He was fading from him.

First was silence and stillness. Thranduil didn’t speak. Didn’t move. Didn’t eat or drink. he was completely unresponsive.

He just sat in their bed, staring off into nothing. There was nothing Bard could do to get his attention. So he slung his arms around Thranduil’s waist and allowed himself to cry into the bedding next to him.

Thranduil still did not move. He did not speak.

He cried for Legolas.

He cried for Thranduil.

It lasted for days.

On the fifth day Thranduil cried, cried like he could not stop it. From dawn to dawn again he did not stop.

Sometimes he wept and sobbed gently calling for his son, sometimes he wailed and shouted violently in elvish. But he was always crying. Bard felt helpless, though some time in the night Thranduil’s hand had found his own and he had not let go since.

He didn’t know if what came next was better or worse.

Thranduil screamed, he smashed things, Bard knew he was losing him.

Thranduil was losing himself.

But Thranduil still wasn’t speaking. Only screaming and crying out in anguish.

He smashed the mirror. Cut himself on the shards. He didn’t even seem to notice the blood.

“Thran, please, stop, you’re hurting yourself.” Bard begged, his own tears wetting their cheeks as they did almost constantly at the moment, trying to catch his hand and look at his cuts.

But Thranduil shook him off.

“What does it matter Bard!” Thranduil shouted, it made Bard wince, it was the first time he had spoken directly too someone since it happened. “I won’t be here for long anyway.”

“Thran, don’t say that. Please, don’t say that.” Bard cried, feeling his own heart creaking under the strain of the last few days, he would get up from his perch on the bed, but he did not trust his legs.

“Why! We both know it’s true.” He yelled again, his words cutting through Bard better than any knife could.

“Please, I need you, stay, stay with me.” Bard pleaded, he needed Thranduil. He _needed_ him.

“For what Bard?! Twenty years? Then what! What do I when you die too? Because you will. You’re going to die and leave me here all alone and I don’t want it Bard! I don’t want that future! Twenty years isn’t enough! It’s nothing!” Thranduil shouted and Bard was crying freely, desperately.

“It’s everything to me.” Bard whispered past his tears, voice trembling. He sounded so small. It stopped Thranduil in his tracks.

He looked at Bard, really looked at him for the first time. Bard only saw him break further. Guilt joining his hurricane of emotions. He had only made it worse.

But a switch flipped on his anger. It seemed to dissolve just as abruptly as it had begun.

He crumpled to his knees, burying his face in Bard’s lap. Bard knew he would cry if he had any more tears left.

He didn’t say anything.

There wasn’t anything to say.

He just held Thranduil as best he could, for as long as he could.

After that a strange calm came over Thranduil.

He no longer had the energy to move from the bed. Bard cradled him in his arms, never letting him go.

“Please don’t go.” He murmured, tears falling into Thranduil’s once bright hair. It was dull now. The life had gone from it.

This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.

Bard was the one that was supposed to die.

Not Thranduil.

Never Thranduil.

“I am sorry.” Thranduil breathed, his voice thin, cuddling with what little life he had left into Bard’s arms.  

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

 

But it wasn’t enough.

 

 


	119. A Wedding Night Under the Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> breathingbarduil had a bit of a tailor order, and I can’t deny her anything, so have some seriously fluffy smut between our two favourite dorks. 
> 
> Rated: E

 

Bard had spent a long time planning this, this whole day, and so far it had been utterly seamless.

But then, Thranduil had helped with organising the celebrations and ceremonies during the day, and everything Thranduil planned seemed to go completely smoothly and exactly according to plan.

They had gotten married by the way of men, said their vows and kissed each other, enjoyed a grand feast and danced together until the day grew dark.

But this evening was all on Bard and he wanted it to be perfect. Their joining under elven law.

He knew Thranduil was worried, worried that the bond wouldn’t take because Bard was mortal. But Bard believed it would, and even if it didn’t, it would not change the way they felt about each other, how much they loved each other, it would not change that they were married in the eyes of both elves and men.

Bard had it all set up, out in one of their favourite places in the forest, one that seemed untouched by the spreading darkness, a small clearing in the canopy of tree. You could see the stars, the grass forest floor was still lush and green, the air was clear.

Bard had it all set up, a blanket laid out, Thranduil’s favourite wine, lanterns tangled up in the trees. He’d trusted Galion to go ahead of them and light the lanterns, to be gone by the time they got there.

Bard was leading Thranduil through the trees, Thranduil pressed up against his back on Bard’s horse, chin tucked over Bard’s shoulder, nibbling on his neck. Bard could feel the smile being pressed into his neck.

“Where are you taking me meleth nín?” Thranduil murmured into his ear.

“Somewhere special.” Bard replied, giving Thranduil’s hands resting on his toned stomach a gentle squeeze.    

Thranduil hummed happily and settled comfortably against Bard as they rode, it wasn’t much further.

When the clearing came into sight, with all the little lights and the wine, he heard Thranduil gasp quietly.

“Oh Bard, it’s beautiful.” Thranduil breathing, gracefully dismounting the horse as they came to a stop, holding out a hand to help Bard down.

“I wanted it to be perfect.” Bard couldn’t help but smile as Thranduil took in the clearing with wide eyes.

“It is.” Thranduil assured him, spinning on his feet and pulling Bard into a deep kiss.

It was hard to kiss because they were smiling, but somehow that only made it better. Breaking apart with little breathless laughs. Fingers entwined Bard gently tugged Thranduil over to blanket laid out on the ground for them, sat down and started pouring the wine into a couple of goblets as Thranduil reclined next to him.

“My favourite.” Thranduil smiled as Bard passed him one of the goblets, slowly taking a languid sip.

“Of course.” Bard grinned back, letting Thranduil steal a kiss.

Bard took a drink and set his goblet aside, propping his upper body up on his arm and facing his new husband, brushing some of the beautiful silver blonde hair back behind his ear, then getting distracted and running his fingers through it, just because he could.

Thranduil smiled at Bard and set his own wine out the way, leaning over to Bard and brushing his impossibly soft lips against Bard’s chapped ones. Bard buried his hand in Thranduil’s hair and deepened the kiss, running his tongue along the seam of Thranduil’s lips, pressing inside and delving into Thranduil’s mouth.

Bard moved to lean over Thranduil, making it easier to kiss him senseless, he could stay like this forever. And they did stay that was for a long while, just luxuriating in each other, Bard felt like he was drowning in Thranduil, he loved it, he loved him.

Thranduil tugged Bard down on top of him, Bard’s legs slipping down either side of Thranduil’s hips. Bard left Thranduil’s mouth, kissing his way along Thranduil’s smooth jaw instead, sucking at his neck, leaving pale red marks on his creamy neck.

He moved his hands to Thranduil’s opulent clothes, starting to undo the various clasps and lacings he found there, pushing them away until he could start to mouth at Thranduil’s collarbone, eliciting a quiet whine from the elf.

Thranduil’s own hands got to work, pulling at Bard’s far less complicated clothes, dragging his tunic over his head in one swift movement. Bard had no time to catch his breath before he gasped out as he felt Thranduil’s mouth on one of his nipples, his elegant fingers toying with the other.

Bard bit back a moan and pushed Thranduil gently back down onto the blanket, claiming his lips once again, feeling the growing hardness under the elf’s robes alongside his own as they pressed together.

Bard sat back, rubbing them together through their clothes, grinning as Thranduil whimpered. Slowly he started to undress him, stripping him of the many layers and robes he wore, shuffling back off his seat to peel away his leggings until finally Thranduil was laid bare before him.

He was breath-taking.

There wasn’t a word in any of the languages on Middle Earth that could do his beauty justice.

His ivory skin was smooth beyond reckoning, although Bard knew he had harsh scars kept out of sight, he found him no less beautiful with them, but Thranduil had wished to keep them concealed for this night. His arms and legs were long and graceful, his neck snowy and inviting, the face he loved so much sharp and soft all at once. His chest was lean and held hidden strength, his nipples were pert and pink, his hips slim, and his cock was long hard against his abdomen, nestled in fine blond hairs at the base, flushed an enticing shade of red.

Bard drank in the sight of him and wondered how he had gotten so lucky.

“You are so impossibly beautiful my love.” Bard breathed.

Thranduil blushed for the first time since Bard had met him, but he let him look, let him have his fill, and although Bard would never tire of looking, there were other things he wished to do as well.

Bard kissed a path back up Thranduil, pressing his lips along his shins, against the backs of his knees, his thighs, his hips and stomach, one to the very tip of his cock, kissed his chest and neck until finally reaching his lips once again.    

Thranduil sighed against his mouth, but his sigh turned into a whimper as Bard wrapped a hand around his hardness, far too loose to do anything but tease, swallowing Thranduil’s whimpers as they kissed.

“W-want to see you too.” Thranduil gasped gently as Bard squeezed his shaft gently, still just teasing.

Thranduil pushed at Bard’s chest and he complied easily, letting Thranduil’s clever hands set to work upon the lacing to his breeches, climbing off him briefly to shuck them and his underclothes off before straddling Thranduil again, both of them moaning quietly as they rubbed together without the barrier of clothes.

Thranduil ran his hands over Bard’s defined chest, along his arms and down onto his thighs, before running upwards again and burying themselves in Bard’s hair, pulling him down for another deep kiss.

“So gorgeous.” Thranduil murmured. “Thought so the moment I laid eyes on you.”

“And I you. I had seen elves before, but truly no one compares to you my heart, you look as though you were woven from the stars themselves.” Bard told him honestly and Thranduil blushed again, it was strange seeing the dusting of red on his cheeks, Bard pressed kisses to it.

“Le melin.” Thranduil said in a whisper between kisses.

“I love you too.” Bard breathed back, nosing at Thranduil’s neck.

Bard supported himself on his forearms as he mouthed at Thranduil’s neck and kissed his reddened lips. Thranduil’s hands roamed freely, tangling in his hair, plucking at his nipples, stroking teasingly at their aligned dicks before finally settling on his ass kneading at his rear.

Bard carried on kissing Thranduil as he reached under the blanket, drawing out the vial of scented oil he had stashed there, finding one of Thranduil’s hands with his own and pressing the vial into it.

“How do you want to…?” Thranduil asked, biting his lip and looking up at Bard as they parted from their insistent kisses.

“Before this night is out I intend to have you and be had by you, so it really doesn’t matter.” Bard smiled, leaning down to press yet another kiss to his husband’s pouty lips, swollen and red from their constant kissing.

Thranduil shared in his smile, keeping their lips pressed together as he heard the vial uncorked at there was a slick finger pressing gently at his entrance, toying with his rim, but never going further.

“Tease me another day my love.” Bard said, voice hoarse. “Or I will be forced to ravish you first.” He added with a grin.

Thranduil obliged and pressed his first finger slowly inside him, distracting him from the alien sensation with his kisses, his other hand brushing against Bard’s nipples. Thranduil started to work him open until he could press in another finger alongside the first.

Bard shifted at the feeling, not completely uncomfortable, but not exactly comfortable either, it was strange.

“Are you alright meleth nín?” Thranduil murmured, stroking his free hand against Bard’s cheek.

“Ye, just, getting used to it.” Bard answered honestly, whining a little as Thranduil wrapped his hand around his slightly flagging erection and started to pump him lightly.

“I think I can help with that.” He murmured, stroking his fingers around inside Bard until they hit upon a little spot and sent Bard gasping.

He jerked, crying out and pushing himself back on Thranduil’s clever fingers, a little desperate to feel that again.

“Ahh Thran.” He whimpered as Thranduil started glancing over the spot on every move. “What was that?” Bard gasped, working his hips back.

“Something to make you feel good.” Thranduil murmured, running his thumb over the head of Bard’s now leaking cock as he pressed his fingers against the place inside him again, the sensation ruining Bard and leaving him panting for air.

“I thought you have never done this before.” Bard laughed breathlessly, knowing full well it was true that Thranduil had never lain with a man before, just as he hadn’t, but being curious for his knowledge all the same.

“I haven’t, but I wanted it to feel good. I may have consulted some of our more…lewd books in the corners of the library.” Thranduil admitted and Bard laughed again, smothering Thranduil with his kisses yet again.

“Well your research paid off my dear.” Bard hummed, rolling his hips back on Thranduil’s fingers in an attempt to regain the intense feeling.

“I am glad, and pay attention, I expect you to be an expert when my turn comes.” Thranduil smirked, and Bard had a witty response ready on his tongue, but it dissolved into moans as Thranduil pressed in a third long finger and rubbed against the little bundle of nerves inside him again.

“I’m ready, Thran, please.” Bard partially begged after a little while of Thranduil stretching him on his fingers.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.” Thranduil asked, concern in his voice, Bard smiled and lent down to give him a gentle kiss.

“You could never.” Bard assured, kissing him once more for good measure.

Thranduil carefully withdrew his fingers from Bard, Bard missing them the moment they were gone, replacing them with the blunt head of his cock.

“I love you.” Thranduil told him, and although he knew it, he would never tire of hearing it.

“I love you too. So much I can hardly contain it.” Bard responded.

They kept their eyes locked together as Bard slowly sank down on Thranduil’s length, going slowly to avoid anything but a satisfying burn, Thranduil’s breath hitching as he went. They both groaned when Bard was fully seated, his rear pressed against Thranduil’s hips, both holding still as he adjusted to Thranduil’s length, his husband’s hands caressing his sides.

Slowly, Bard began to rock atop Thranduil, rolling his hips against him, making whimpers fall from Thranduil’s lips.

Bard found Thranduil’s hands with his own, linking their fingers and pressing them into the blanket either side of Thranduil’s head. He leant down to rest their chests together and kiss his new husband as he rolled his hips languidly.

Thranduil moaned as Bard moved, settling his feet on the ground and using the leverage to gently thrust up into Bard in time with his own movements. Bard let out a string of noises as Thranduil only took a couple of thrusts to find his sweet spot, hitting it unerringly on every stroke.

“Gods I love you so much.” Bard gasped as Thranduil’s movements sped up, forcing his own hips to become faster, more desperate.

“And I you.” Thranduil breathed, voice strained as they began to lose themselves completely.

Bard rose slightly, planting his hands on Thranduil’s chest and moving his hips back onto Thranduil at a fast pace, but never unlocking his eyes from those sparkling blue ones. Thranduil’s hands came to rest on his hips, helping his thrusts as they grew faster and more erratic.

“I’m close Thran, I need – ” Bard gasped, but Thranduil knew what he needed and wrapped a hand around his leaking shaft, stroking it alongside their fast movements.

Bard’s head dropped back down, sealing their mouths together in a searing kiss as their love making became frantic as they came towards completion.

“Thran!” Bard cried out around their kiss as Thranduil sent another thrust over the bundle of nerves inside him at the same time his pal ran over the head of Bard’s weeping cock.

Bard spilled between them with his shout, shuddering through his intense release. They never really stopped kissing, sharing breath as Bard melted in Thranduil’s arms. Bard found the last of his energy and squeezed his already tensing muscles around Thranduil’s cock inside him, dragging his orgasm out of him.

“Ai, Bard, meleth, le melin.” Thranduil moaned as he finished inside Bard, and that was when he felt it.

With the aftershocks of their love still shuddering through them, cuddled up and lazily kissing with Thranduil still buried inside him, he began to feel it. A warm feeling starting in his chest, and spreading through his entire body, his entire being, filling him up. He felt whole, like a part of him had been missing his entire life he just had not known it.

Bard opened his tired eyes and gasped, there was a faint glow upon their skin, emanating between them, binding them together. Bard felt like he could reach out and touch Thranduil’s thoughts, his soul if he tried.

“It is the bond.” Thranduil said softly, drawing Bard back down into his arms, stroking down his heated back.

“I can feel it.” Bard stated, awe threading through his voice, fingertips dancing over the slightly brighter glow over Thranduil’s heart.

“You can feel me, and I you.” Thranduil breathed, their lovemaking and the warmth of the newly formed bond lulling them both to sleep.

“Le melin.” Bard murmured as he drifted off, even though they had already said it so many times that day, it seemed there would never be too many times to say it.

“Le melin, Bard.” Thranduil replied softly as sleep claimed him again.

They woke a few hours later, Thranduil waking him with a shower of gentle kisses and mumbled words of affection, Bard responding to his touch readily.

They made love again, Bard carefully preparing Thranduil until he was whimpering for something more. They lay on their sides this time, Bard held Thranduil close as possible pressed up along his smooth back, hitching one of his legs up to his chest with a soft hand and entering him slowly.

He kissed his neck, his cheek and his lips despite the slightly awkward angle as he buried himself in his husband. The position felt impossibly intimate and the ‘I love yous’ fell freely from their lips along with gentle whimpers and moans as Bard slowly took Thranduil for the first time until they came together, sigh out each other’s names and curling up in each other’s arms.

When Bard opened his eyes to press lazy kisses to his husband’s lips until they drifted off once more he caught their glow again.

It was brighter than before, pulling at his chest and binding his very soul to Thranduil, and Thranduil’s to him. It felt like it was promising them something.

It felt like it was promising them a forever. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I am implying that the bond has made Bard immortal with Thranduil, because wHY THE FRICK NOT, and I wanted to commit to the fluff ;) 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it <3 I'm trying to write an awful lot of wips atm, but will do chapters for this fic as much as possible ^^
> 
> Comments and kudos make my life <3


	120. Vampire!Bard au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Vampire!Bard AU where they get to live together forever! :D And feel free to include Bard feeding from Thrandy if you can. ;)
> 
> Rated: E

 

“You’re hiding something from me meleth nín.” Thranduil stated, those piercing blue eyes boring into him from behind the wine goblet.

Bard didn’t respond, he didn’t know how. Hiding something wasn’t the same as outright lying to Thranduil’s face.

They were in Thranduil’s rooms deep in his realm, Thranduil sat in an armchair, one long leg slug gracefully over the other, his face regarding Bard across the room. He had just been going to refill his own goblet when Thranduil had spoken.

“You’ve been hiding something from the very beginning.” Thranduil continued, but his gaze was considering not accusatory.

Bard stayed quiet, pouring his drink and taking a sip, not dropping eye contact with Thranduil.

“Every night we spend together – and I would wager the ones when we are apart as well – you leave our bed, ever so quietly no doubt in a vain hope of not waking me, slip outside, and do not return for an hour or so.” Thranduil said.

Bard kicked himself internally for ever thinking that he could manage to get out without waking him, but he kept his face carefully level.

“I hope that one day you will tell me where you go, why you go.” Thranduil sighed, probably seeing the way Bard’s face was so carefully blank.

Thranduil rose from his chair and set his circlet down on the table, starting to shrug of his clothes as he headed towards the large, opulent bed. For the first time since they had met, Bard felt awkward, he was not sure if he was welcome to follow right now. But Thranduil stretched out and elegant hand towards Bard, as if he had read his mind and wished to put him back at ease.

“Come to bed Bard.” Thranduil called to him gently, and Bard was helpless against that voice, sinking into it.

He took Thranduil’s hand and let himself be tugged towards their bed, shedding their clothes and tucking under the sheets, pulling Thranduil back against his chest as he always did.

“I love you.” Bard murmured as they settled down to sleep, willing him to believe it, worrying that for the first time he would not, knowing Bard was keeping something form him.

“I know. I love you too.” Thranduil breathed, lacing their fingers together.

Bard dozed for a few hours as he always did, before carefully detangling himself from Thranduil and climbing out of bed as he always did. He felt even guiltier than usual when he left this night.

“I will be back darlin’, I’ll always come back.” Bard assured, knowing that he was awake, pressing a kiss to his soft hair before leaving.

Thranduil had a conflicted smile on his lips but didn’t open his eyes, Bard ran his fingers through his hair and left his rooms.

He found his way out of the palace without being seen, keeping to the shadows, moving even more silently than the elves, employing the stealth he never did around people.

When Bard came outside and reached the forest he set of at full speed, letting lose for the first time since the night before. Going as far as he could, leaping through the trees, spinning into a swarm of bats and morphing back into himself.

Bard ran and flew, he enjoyed doing it, but it wasn’t why he came out here every night. No, that was for something far less wholesome. He hated himself for it as he picked out the scent, stalked it. A deer.­

He could avoid people now. In Laketown, when he had been pressed for time in the night had had not had much choice, drinking from people in secluded back alleys, making sure they didn’t remember in the morning.

But he never killed. He knew how to control it.

But he hadn’t always, on his first night after turning, he had no idea what was happening, feeling the pull, the hunger for the first time. He hadn’t known how to control it.

He had drained the man before he even knew what he was doing. It haunted him. It made sure he never made the same mistake again. It reminded him he was dangerous. Murderer.

He hated himself.

He sunk his fangs into the terrified deer, using his various tricks to try and soothe the animal.

He only took what he needed to survive, let the creature go, prayed to the Valar that it still had the strength to survive in these treacherous woods.

Then he went back, wiping the blood from his mouth and taking most of the journey as the swarm of bats. He loved flying. A small silver lining he supposed.

He walked back through the front doors unseen, slunk back into their rooms and slipped back into bed, pulling Thranduil back against him. Thranduil turned in his arms, eyes awake and brushing a hand through Bard’s windswept hair.

“Will you tell me?” Thranduil asked, leaning forwards to kiss Bard, Bard kept his lips tightly shut, responding to Thranduil but keeping the kiss chaste, terrified Thranduil would taste the blood lingering in his mouth.

“In the morning.” Bard promised, knowing he couldn’t keep it any longer. “For now I want to hold you.” Bard said quietly, worried it would be the last time, after Thranduil discovered his secret.

“Would you take me my love? You feel so distant, I long for you.” Thranduil murmured, rolling atop him, and Bard could never deny him, would never want to deny him.

They made love slowly, Bard so much gentler than usual, pouring his love into his every stroke, hoping Thranduil would remember it when his confession came in the morning. He kissed Thranduil’s neck as he always seemed to do without any conscious thought, but he never did more than kiss it, so careful with the tender skin there, he could feel his heartbeat. For Bard, kissing him there made them feel even more connected.

He feared it had been their last time.

“I love you.” Thranduil murmured sleepily, as if reading Bard’s thoughts again, his fears, reassuring him with a peck to the cheek, settling down against his chest.

“I love you too.” Bard answered, holding Thranduil tight, hoping never to have to let him go.

But if Thranduil wanted to leave when he was told, Bard would let him. It was kill him. But he would let him.

He wouldn’t blame him either.

He was a monster.

Sleep found Bard eventually, though his mind raced and fretted for the long overdue conversation they would be having in the morning. He savoured the feeling of waking up tangled together as they always seemed to be. The way Thranduil had taken to kissing him awake slowly on the rare occasion he woke first.

“Good morning my mighty dragonslayer.” Thranduil teased as Bard began to wake, responding to Thranduil’s kisses, running his hands up his sides.

“Morning darlin’.” Bard smiled, brushing Thranduil’s loose hair back with his hand.

But soon he sighed, turning his face away, the overdue confession weighing heavily on his shoulders, killing the mood for him entirely.

“What is it?” Thranduil pushed gently, voice soft, hand finding Bard’s.

“There is something I need to tell you.” Bard said, even though they both knew it, maybe Thranduil had expected them to be up and out of bed before he revealed his secret. 

“Yes, but only if you are ready.” Thranduil told him, squeezing his hand.

“I will never be ready.” He would never be ready for Thranduil to leave him. “But you deserve to know. And if I cannot find the courage to tell you now, I doubt I ever will.”

Thranduil stayed quiet, waiting patiently as Bard climbed out the bed and pulled on some clothes. He thought it would be best, if Thranduil wanted him to leave. The two of them being so naked and intimate with each other, he didn’t want Thranduil to feel trapped or tricked. Although he likely would anyway.

Thranduil did not move from the bed, merely sitting up, crossing his legs, the sheets pooling low around his hips, only just hiding his modesty. Bard refused to allow himself to be distracted by his enticing lover. His love.

Bard took a deep breath.

“I am not entirely human.” Bard started, getting a curious eyebrow from Thranduil, not what he had expected then, perhaps he had had no idea what to expect. “I– some years ago I was attacked in the night while waiting for a late consignment of barrels. It bit me, began to drink from me, but for some reason which I have never discovered, he then fed me his own blood instead of killing me or leaving me.”

“Since then I have been different. I feel ill and exhausted in the sunlight, and at the rare times it is high and clear in the sky I cannot go outside at all. Silver burns me, another reason I refuse so many kingly jewels. I can run faster than any being, I can hear and smell and see far beyond the reach of other men. I heal from wounds in moments. I – I do not seem to age. I can transform into a swarm of bats at will.

“But the worst of it.” Bard took a gulp of air, Thranduil’s face was fascinated, had even gained hope at his mention of not aging, that would not last, soon it would turn to revulsion. “My teeth, elongate into fangs. I must drink the blood of other living things to sustain my own life. I- I _hunger_ for it, it is a lust like no other.”

Bard finished and there was a pause, Thranduil regarding him with those ice blue eyes of his, though they never seemed cold, not to Bard, not even now.

He approached Bard, moving from the bed, letting the sheets fall away, uncaring for his own nudity. They had been naked together so often, but Bard would never tire of the sight. He came up to Bard and cradled his face, tracing a finger along his lips.

Bard knew he wanted to see, he let his mouth fall open and slowly let his fangs show. Once again his love surprised him, leaning in to kiss him, running his tongue along the impossibly sharp teeth. Bard feared he would cut himself, but thankfully he did not.

He did not know what he would do if he tasted Thranduil’s blood. Two intense kinds of lust mingling together. He feared it would overwhelm him. Cause him to lose control on the beast inside.

“You are remarkable.” Thranduil finally murmured, it jarred Bard, it was not the reaction he had expected.

“I am a monster.” Bard whispered back, eyes closed and tears threatening.

“Well if you’re supposed to be a monster Bard then I am entirely underwhelmed I must say. You are one of the gentlest men I know, the only time I have even seen you violent is in defence of your family.” Thranduil replied, voice gentle, even amused. Bard’s heart squeezed in his chest. Hope spreading.

“You…do not think I’m a monster?” He asked, hardly believing that Thranduil could still see him as he used to.

“You do not kill things. I would know if the pure creatures left in my forest were having the life drain from them. And elves and men would certainly not go unnoticed. You do not kill.” Thranduil stated simply, running delicate fingers down the sides of Bard’s face.

“I-I did once.” Bard admitted, closing his eyes and biting his lip. “The first night. I had no idea what was happening, no idea how to control it. When I realised he was dead, I swore it would never happen again and it hasn’t Thran but I still see him. I’m a murderer.” Bard finished with his voice barely a whisper, only to feel his husband’s soft lips on his again, coaxing him into opening his eyes.

“You are not to blame for that.” Thranduil told him firmly, hands rubbing Bard’s biceps.

“How am I not to blame?” Bard laughed bitterly. He could still see the man’s face. Cold and lifeless.

“The one who made you like this, he could have warned you, helped you, not done this at all.” Thranduil pointed out, Bard went to protest but Thranduil silenced him with another kiss. “Selfishly I fear I am grateful though.”

“How could you be grateful?” Bard asked.

“You said you do not age, does that mean…?” Thranduil wondered tentatively, and Bard understood. A silver lining to his curse. He hadn’t even thought about it, he had been so sure Thranduil would have never wanted to see him again. It hadn’t even occurred to think of a forever.

“Yes.” Bard whispered, and Thranduil sagged in his arms. Holding on to Bard he started to cry. Balling his fists into Bard’s tunic, making it wet with his tears. He was shaking even as Bard wrapped him up in his arms, holding him tight.

“I t-thought.” Thranduil sobbed, hitting his fists against Bard’s chest. “I thought I was going to lose you. I was so sure. Time was going to steal you from me. Y-you ass Bard you couldn’t have told me I wasn’t going to lose you.”

Thranduil was hitting him and Bard let him, holding him as close and as strong as he could without hurting him. He was stronger than other beings.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I was so sure you would leave me when I told you, I didn’t even think – ” Bard babbled as Thranduil tucked his face into his neck, wetting it with tears.

“Leave you?! I’m never letting you out of my sight.” Thranduil cried, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

His hands cradled Bard’s face again and drew him into deep, desperate, kisses, barely allowing either of the up for air. Bard pressed his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth, swallowing the whimpers that came as a result, stroking them along each other. He nipped on his bottom lip just the way he loved, dragging more little noises from him, but always so careful never to draw blood.

Bard buried a hand in Thranduil’s hair, wrapping the other around his lower back, holding them tight against each other. Thranduil’s hands gripped onto his tunic so hard Bard was surprised it hadn’t torn.

Bard kissed his way along Thranduil’s jaw and down his neck. Sucking light kisses into the skin, not risking nipping him, dragging his lips along the fragile skin there, pressing kisses to it as if to protect it from himself.

“At least now I understand the fascination with my neck.” Thranduil mumbled between Bard’s kisses to it and Bard felt guilty again.

“I am sorry my love, know that I would never bite you, never drink from you.” Bard assured, going to pull his mouth away from Thranduil’s throat, only to have Thranduil’s hand in his hair, urging him back towards it. He had always enjoyed having his neck kissed.

“But do you want to? Drink from me?” Thranduil murmured as he encouraged Bard back to kissing his neck.

“I-. Yes. I desire it each day. Hunger for it. But I can control it I promise.” Bard admitted, but it was not a desire to hurt, never a wish to harm. It was something else. A want to be one, to taste him, drink him in.

The idea alone was euphoric to him.

“What if I wanted you to do it?” Thranduil asked, voice low, pressing against him, naked and smooth neck bared for him.

Bard felt his control wavering. Thoughts of sinking his teeth and feeding from the one he loved, caring for him after, sharing everything, taking him in. it was everything he wanted. It was everything he feared. It would be so easy to lose control during a feed like that. So driven by every form of hunger imaginable. It would be too easy to lose himself entirely. 

“W-why would you want me to do that.” Bard asked, nervous, voice wavering, a lump in his throat.

“Lust. Desire. Hunger. You make it sound so sensual though you did not mean to. I wonder what it would feel like. And the intimacy. Letting you drink from me, having you drink only from me from now. It seems like an intoxicating notion.”

Intoxicating. It was the correct word to use. Bard felt drunk. He could smell the arousal pouring off Thranduil, feel his hardness pressed against his hip. He wanted to devour him. Be more intimate than they had ever been. Share in everything they had. 

“I could hurt you, lose control. Thran I can’t risk it, I can’t.” Bard protested, even though his was hard at the mere idea, his naked lover offering himself, so pure and light.

He feared himself even if Thranduil refused to.

“I trust you. You would never hurt me meleth nín.” Thranduil’s voice was so very soft, the moment he said it, Bard knew it was true. He could not. Would never. But still he feared it.

His canines were elongating, mouth watering, lips brushing against Thranduil’s neck.

“Tell me to stop.” Bard begged, even as his tongue laved against Thranduil’s pulse point, his teeth began to graze the same spot.

“Please.” Thranduil whimpered and Bard’s restraint broke.

He sunk his teeth into Thranduil’s pliant neck and he wasn’t sure which of them moaned louder.

The taste that flooded his mouth, there was no way to describe it. Maybe it was elven blood, maybe it was because he loved Thranduil. But he knew no other blood was ever going to satisfy him again.

Thranduil went lax for a moment before pushing against him, and Bard began to suck. He was throbbing with need as Thranduil’s blood pulsed into his mouth, his naked lover scrambling at his clothes and this time Bard did hear them rip, but it was faint, in the back of his mind, muffled by the intense sensation that was engulfing his whole being.

Bard drank slowly, luxuriously, enjoying it for the first time since he had become this thing.

They were rutting together, Bard dammed himself for getting dressed.

“Bard, Bard I need– ” Thranduil let out in a desperate whine, and for a moment, Bard thought he had gone too far, even though he knew that could not be the case, not yet, he was drinking so slowly, making the amount he could taking without harming him last.

But he understood what Thranduil needed as he started ripping at Bard’s clothes, usually elegant hands yanking wildly at the lacings of his breeches. Bard let out a growl from deep in his throat as Thranduil wrapped a hand around his length, pulling him from his breeches and stroking him frantically.

Bard forced himself to release his hold on Thranduil’s neck, pulling his teeth from his neck, Thranduil whimpering as he did, trying to tug him back.

“What do you want?” Bard growled, even as he walked them back towards the bed, his voice was gravelly, he almost didn’t recognise it.

“You, you, want you.” Thranduil moaned, one hand bringing Bard’s mouth back to his bloodied neck, his other guiding Bard’s hand behind him.

Bard groaned throatily and pushed Thranduil down onto the bed, stalking up the bed after him and latching back down onto his neck, taking a long drag, both of them moaning wantonly again.

He had had no idea it could be so completely erotic. But it was, Thranduil writhing and moaning beneath him in needy pleasure instead of fear.

It was a consuming feeling.

But the blood wasn’t the only thing he was hungry for now, his arousal hard against Thranduil’s own weeping cock.

“Please Bard. Please. I’m still ready from last night. Just please.” Thranduil begged, reaching between them and bringing Bard against his entrance, but Bard refused to hurt him in any way and made sure to check he really was still loose enough from the night before.

He pressed his fingers into Thranduil’s mouth, the elf swirling his tongue around them. Bard pulled them from his lover’s lascivious mouth and slid into him easily, satisfied that he actually was ready and not just getting carried away Bard removed his fingers and replaced them with his cock, thrusting into Thranduil and taking a hard heady suck from his neck at the same time.

Thranduil cried out, babbling nonsense in a mixture of languages and Bard set up a brutal pace, knowing he would have to stop drinking from him soon, wanting them both to come before then. He had a feeling it wasn’t going to take long.

He set up a brutal pace, one that wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the inhuman strength he possessed. They shunted up the bed with his every thrust, the string of whimpers and whines tumbling from Thranduil’s lips, Bard’s own groans of pleasure vibrating into Thranduil’s neck.

Bard started hitting Thranduil’s sweets spot dead on each time, leaving him moaning even louder than before and it only took four more perfectly aimed thrusts and hard drag from his neck and Thranduil was coming forcefully between them, cock utterly untouched. The intensity of his orgasm left him shuddering and clenching around Bard, dragging Bard’s orgasm out of him, spilling into Thranduil with a jarring force.

He took one final pull from Thranduil’s neck before ending the bite, collapsing next to Thranduil, pressing open mouthed kisses over the puncture wound, laving it with his tongue, knowing it would help heal it faster. It should be almost entirely healed by the end of the day.

He showered the wound with affection, cleaning up the blood and wiping his mouth before pressing a chaste kiss to Thranduil’s exhausted lips, only for Thranduil to part his lips and invite Bard’s tongue into his mouth despite the taste of his own exquisite blood in Bard’s mouth.

“Are you okay?” Bard checked, looking over the bite and checking Thranduil, who didn’t even seem any paler than usual.

“Elves are very resilient.” Thranduil sighed, still entirely blissed, his body entirely limp and sated. The only real evidence of Bard’s feeding was the bite mark and the exhausted voice. “Although I think I might be in need of some sleep.” He laughed that deep melodic laugh as he spoke.

“’M sorry.” Bard mumbled, feeling thoroughly fucked and fed out himself, lying collapsed next to Thranduil, one arm slung over his waist, still pressing kisses to his neck.

“Please do not ever apologise for that. I want you to do it again, every night, whenever you need to feed.” Thranduil murmured, linking their fingers and turning his face to find Bard’s lips with his own.

“You’d be too weak if I fed from you that much, you’d never recover properly, feel constantly drained.” Bard told him, maybe every other day at a stretch, but he would need to find something else for the days in between.

“Elves recover far faster than mortals.” Thranduil assured. “And I’m sure our healers could come up with something to speed the process.” He smirked, cuddling into Bard even further.

And it was tempting, it was exactly what he wanted, he never wanted to have to feed from anyone or anything else again. If there was a way…

“We’ll see. Only if it’s safe for you.” Bard replied, holding him tight in his arms.

“Okay.” Thranduil said quietly as he drifted to sleep in Bard’s arms, Bard following close behind.

 

The Mirkwood healers were not entirely sure why they were being ordered to work overtime to find something to help with fast recovery form blood loss. But when they found it, their king was so delighted that he gave them all some particularly good dorwinion, so they didn’t particularly care.

Nor were they sure they actually wanted to know either.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cannot believe it's taken me this long to end up writing a vampire au :') 
> 
> Comments and kudos warm my cold dead heart <3
> 
> I love you all ^^


	121. ‘For some reason we have to share a bed’

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> We can still send you prompts right? If so i gotta ask for a ‘For some reason we have to share a bed’ fic.
> 
> Rated: G

 

“You cannot be serious.” Thranduil started, glare fixed on Elrond.

“I am afraid I am my friend.” Elrond answered fairly nonchalantly as he continued walking through the halls, only actually stopping when Thranduil moved to physically stand in his path.

“How can you have possibly run out of rooms? This is Imladris for Valar sake.” Thranduil demanded, looking as if he was trying to melt Elrond with his stare, Elrond, as ever, looked entirely unfazed by it.  

“More people than expected have arrived for the spring festival in a few days.” He explained calmly.

“Then why did you call a council at the same time.” Thranduil grit out, fists balled at his sides, Bard was surprised to see so many cracks in his usually cool exterior.

He didn’t think it was that bad, maybe either he or the idea was just moderately repulsive to Thranduil.

Bard tried not to let the unwarranted hurt show on his face.

“It was urgent and the festivities last a long while as you know.” Elrond replied, voice so even and composed it was almost annoying.

“Nothing in that meeting was urgent.” Thranduil bitched back, and Elrond actually let out a put-upon sigh.

“Well perhaps other things in Arda would concern you if you ever came out of your forest.” Elrond suggested, with a raised eyebrow.

“That is not what we are discussing here.” Thranduil hissed, and Bard was pretty proud of how Thranduil managed not to yell really.

“Indeed, the rooming arrangements. Well I am not entirely sure what you expect me to do. We are out of rooms, I cannot produce more magically.” Elrond pointed out.

“But why are we the ones who have to share?” Thranduil demanded, Bard just stood awkwardly off to the side throughout the entire exchange.

“Because unlike any of the other delegates, you two are friends. And unlike the guests here for the spring festival, you will only be here for another couple of days.” Elrond explained and it really did sound like very rational reasoning.

Thranduil looked like he was taking a breath to get ready to launch into Elrond, Bard decided now would probably be a good time to step in.

“Thran, it’s fine. I’ll just sleep on the floor if it troubles you so much.” He said, stepping forward and placing a gentle hand against his friend’s chest, one which he hoped would calm him a little.

It seemed to work.  

“Don’t be absurd Bard, you’re a king, you cannot sleep on the floor.” Thranduil answered, voie far gentler than it had been when speaking to Elrond.

“I’m a bargeman, I have slept on worse.” Bard assured, offering him a smile.

“I will not be the cause of you being banished to the floor.” Thranduil told him, moving some of Bard’s more unruly hair out of his face.

“I’m used to such things, you are not. I will still get a night’s sleep on the floor unlike you, and you are clearly uncomfortable sharing, so I’ll take the floor.” Bard tried, he slept on the dirt, in a ruin, on his barge, in trees. The floor in Rivendell was hardly going to bother him. In fact it was probably still more comfortable than his old bed in Laketown.

“I will not put you on the floor. We will have to share.” Thranduil insisted, and Bard knew from the determined set in Thranduil’s eyes that he was not going to win this.

“I do not wish to make you uncomfortable.” Bard replied, hesitant as Thranduil had been so very set against it earlier, he must have found the idea distasteful, found Bard a little distasteful, despite their friendship.

“You could never make me uncomfortable Bard.” Thranduil sighed, and Bard thought that was rather at odds with the way he had been vehemently trying to get separate rooms earlier.

“Only if you’re sure.” Bard checked again, the last thing he wanted to was cause his friend unease.

“Of course.” Thranduil replied, and Bard somehow did not believe it, but he kept quiet anyway.

When they finally looked around themselves again they found that Elrond was gone, they hadn’t even noticed him leave.

They found their way down the corridors and to the door into their allocated room. It wasn’t a large room (by Thranduil’s standards, to Bard it felt pretty huge) but it was beautiful, filled with light and comfortable furniture.   

Thankfully, the bed was rather large, and Bard was a little annoyed because there was a very clear space that a sofa would fit into perfectly. In fact he was a little surprised there wasn’t one in the room. That would solve all their problems.

Thranduil was uncharacteristically quiet as they changed out of their day clothes and into their night things, usually Bard would expect Thranduil to pull out some wine before retiring for the night, but tonight Thranduil had just made a slow walk for the bed and started methodically taking off his clothes for bed.

All of it suggests that Thranduil really wasn’t okay with sharing his bed with Bard and made him want to set up on the floor regardless of what Thranduil had said earlier.

He was also completely ignoring the part of himself that had long harbours deeper feelings for his friend, and was unsurprisingly starting to hurt in the knowledge that Thranduil would never feel quite the same.

It was okay though, he had never really expected it. To have the Elvenking’s friendship as he did was inconceivable enough, he knew what that meant for Thranduil. Bard would never relinquish that friendship.

Thranduil tucked himself down into the comfy bed, as close to the edge as he could be without falling out, his back turned to where Bard was, just finished changing himself.

He toyed with the corner of the sheets on his side of the bed, he really wasn’t sure about this.

“Thran, I think I’m going to kip on the floor. It’s okay. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I already said you aren’t. Get in the bed Bard. I’ll be fine.” Thranduil ordered, and it was definitely an order.

So Bard slid under the rich covers and stayed firmly on his own side even though he was having to push away the irresistible urge to roll over and gather him to Bard’s chest instead. He didn’t know what was bothering Thranduil and he didn’t like anything at all bothering him, but unfortunately that didn’t give him any more of a right to hold him close like he wanted to.

So instead Bard closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep.

It took Bard a while to realise something was odd as he woke. At first he just felt comfortable and warm, content like he had not been in a lot while.

He only noticed there was something – or rather someone – in his arms when they moved, snuggling back against his chest. That was when he remembered who he was sharing a bed with.

Bard held his breath. This was probably exactly what Thranduil had been worried about.  

He should really extract himself from Thranduil before the elf woke, he knew he should.

But then Thranduil was turning in his arms, cuddling into his chest and wrapping his arms around Bard and there was really nothing in Arda that could have moved Bard in that moment.

Instead he closed his eyes again and held Thranduil a little tighter.

“This is what I was afraid of.” Thranduil murmured, it could’ve been hours or only minutes, but all that mattered was the deep melody of his voice and the way his hair was tickling Bard’s chin.

“Afraid of what?” Bard said, hoping to be able to make light of it all if Thranduil disliked being wrapped in his arms so much.

“That I wouldn’t be able to resist.”

“Resist what?”

“This.” Thranduil breathed, and then there were soft lips against his own in the most gentle kiss he had ever experience.

But in his daze Thranduil had already moved away before he could respond.

“I am sorry.” Thranduil sighed, sitting up slightly, face solemn.

“About what?” Bard swallowed, he felt for the first time like everything he wanted was just within reach.

“Kissing you. Curling around you in the night.” Thranduil admitted, unable to look at Bard, as if he had done something wrong.

“Please don’t even apologise for those things.” Bard told him, bearing himself, his feelings for Thranduil.

“I am confused.” Thranduil said, but there was the smallest slither of hope in his voice.

“I would rather you do them again instead of regretting them.” Bard said quietly, aware of the unusual shyness in his own tone.

“Do not toy with me Bard.” Thranduil answered, voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“I swear to you I am not.” Bard promised him honestly.

“Then what – ”

Bard decided not to continue this hesitance and confusion any longer. If he was wrong – which he did not believe he was – then Thranduil would just have to forgive him.

He tugged Thranduil towards him and sealed their lips together in a kiss that he sincerely hoped conveyed everything he felt, everything he had not been able to day yet.

When Bard let him go they were both breathless and smiling.

“I think we’ve been a little bit oblivious.” Bard mumbled as he knocked their noses together.

“I’m afraid I have to agree.” Thranduil replied, drawing Bard back into another kiss.

I was difficult to kiss when you were smiling, but it was also perfect.

 

Over on the other side of Imladris in Elrond’s chambers, Lindir giggled to himself as he lay on the sofa stolen from the room they had deposited Bard and Thranduil in, keys to the many spare rooms dangling off his elegant fingers.

“Do you think it worked?” Lindir asked, turning around to face his lord.

“I am hopeful. If not we may have to resort to less subtle measures.” Elrond mused fiddling idly with the braids Lindir had done early that morning.

“How on earth can we get less subtle?” Lindir asked, incredulous look scrunching up his face.

“Well, we could always lock them in a closet.” Elrond suggested, that sent Lindir into another round of giggles.

It became clear Bard and Thranduil had sorted themselves out as soon as they emerged from their room.

They locked them in a closet anyway.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooo homies ^^
> 
> Two messages of relative importance: 
> 
> Firstly, if you have ever sent me a prompt, can you please check out [this post](http://thrandythefabulous.tumblr.com/post/125751041099/psa), as it is relevant to you ^^
> 
> And secondly, can you all take a look at [this one](http://breathingbarduil.tumblr.com/post/127056323134/august-21st-fanfiction-writers-appreciation-day) (you don't need tumblr to do it) because it is a wonderful idea and I hope you will all take part
> 
> Thank you my lovelies <3


	122. A Soulmate au with a twist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> I combined two: 
> 
> I don't think you already did it sooo... soulmate au for Bard and Thranduil ? Tattoos, voices... whatever you prefer =D
> 
> And an anon asked for a colour soulmate au, so I joined them up
> 
> Rated: G

 

“Da, what does purple look like?” Tilda asked, it would seem out of the blue where it not for the fact that she asked these kinds of questions quite often, and Bard tended to answer in the same way every time.

“It’s hard to describe a colour Til.” Bard replied, although he was fairly sure the wildflowers in the grove were purple, if memory served.

“You always say that.” Tilda grumbled and Bard knew how frustrating it was to know there was colour out there but to have to wait to see it.

He remembered meeting his wife, nothing had happened at first, not until time had been spent together and Bard had felt himself falling already. He had known what it was even before the colours started to appear, blacks and whites and greys turning into colour so slowly it was almost imperceptible at first, until one day he started to notice. He had ran all the way across Laketown to find her, had grabbed a flower that was the shade he had learnt to be blue and woke her up in the small hours of the morning to show her.

Many people in Laketown and now Dale had never found their soulmate, their town was so small and people travelled so little that it wasn’t that surprising,  and it was sad, but what Bard found much sadder was the way so many allowed it to stop them from finding any love at all.

“I’m just not sure how to describe purple to you darlin’.” Bard told her, feeling bad all the same.

“What about green?” Tilda asked, apparently not understanding that all colours are very difficult to explain.

“Green is the colour of grass, its life and nature and goodness and usually means things can grow and thrive.” Bard explained vaguely, but Tilda seemed satisfied for now anyway.

“What was your favourite colour?” She continued her inquiry even though she had asked many times before.

“Blue.” Bard answered easily, it had been the first colour he had seen.

“Mine’s going to be purple.” Tilda stated, even though she hadn’t a clue what it looked like, Bard just smiled and ruffled her hair, spotting one of the wildflowers by a bush on the side of the road and stooping down to pick it up.

“I think this is purple.” Bard told her, handing her the flower, she took it gleefully and studied it intently, as if looking at it hard enough would make it come into colour.

“I like it.” She decided, even though all she was seeing was a shade of grey, albeit quite a nice one. “What was it like when the colours went away again?” Tilda asked as they wandered back towards their new house in Dale.

Bard hated that question.

“It didn’t matter.” Bard answered, nothing had mattered other than the fact she had died.  

In truth he didn’t really want the colours without his wife, colour had been something they had shared, they could never seem as bright or as special without her.

Tilda looked about ready to continue her colour questioning, but then she caught sight of something and went tearing off.

“Mister Thranduil! Mister Thranduil!” She yelled happily, chasing towards their house where a great elk was waiting, which could only mean one person was waiting inside.

Bard felt himself light up at realising what visitor they had and broke into a jog himself, he had missed him.  

By the time he made it into the house Thranduil had Tilda wrapped up in a hug and she was chattering away about what Bard had just told her about colours and Thranduil and he shared a slightly sad smile, they both knew what it was like to lose a world filled with colour. She asked Thranduil about colours a lot as well, his answers were always better than Bard’s, he was so good at describing them.

Eventually Tilda climbed down from the hug and scurried off to find something in her room that she wanted to show him instead, leaving Thranduil and Bard finally free to greet each other. But Bard had no idea how to do that really because more and more lately all he wanted to do was greet Thranduil with an embrace and a kiss and he was ever conflicted on whether or not it would be welcome or not.

He was in love with him.

He had known it for a long while now.

He had been slow to realise, but as Thranduil had stayed behind to help with the reconstruction of Dale it something had started to grow. They had been close friends by the time Thranduil had to return to his realm, so began his visits which grew to be more and more frequent as time went by, and when Thranduil left for his own realm after one of these visits, kissing Tilda goodbye, Bard realised what it was he felt in his chest. Love.

He was in love again.

And the thing was, he was fairly certain Thranduil felt the same.

He behaved differently with Bard than anyone else, he cared for his children, he was already part of the family in so many ways, his touches lingered for slightly too long, they spent long evenings drinking Thranduil’s favourite wine and always stayed up too late and he often caught him looking at his mouth, as if he wanted to kiss Bard.

But Bard knew what held him back, what stopped him like it stopped so many others. The world was still blacks and whites and shades of grey.

It was one thing for people who had never seen colour to be together, especially in a place as small as Laketown, but never had Bard heard of two people who had found colour and lost it choosing to be with someone new.  People wouldn’t like it. Bard didn’t care. The only problem was if Thranduil cared, if he thought it would be wrong.

Bard loved him, and frankly he didn’t give a shit that the world was still grey because he knew his own heart and he knew what he felt.

He had always known that the universe was wrong to believe there was only one person in the world for you, he had never believed it, he had seen too many happy people who lived together without colour, although everyone was fast to say they would leave each other if their soulmate appeared. Bard never believed that either, because how could they be perfect for you if the first thing they did was to tear you away from someone else.

He did not believe it, the universe was wrong, because he was completely in love and the world was still black and white and he didn’t care.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Bard asked Thranduil, greeting him with a warm smile because he could not reach out and kiss him like he wanted.

“We need to renegotiate our trade agreements.” Thranduil told him and Bard looked at him in confusion.

“…no we don’t?”

“Yes, I know.” Thranduil answered, mischief twinkling in his eyes and making Bard laugh, he had just needed an official excuse to visit then.

Were they together as they ought to be, there would be no need for excuses.

“I think renegotiating might take at least a few days, maybe even weeks.” Bard mused aloud with a grin, heading into the kitchen to find Thranduil a drink, he was usually thirsty after the long ride.

“I think you might be right.” Thranduil agreed, the pair of them sharing a smile and no one could tell Bard that this wasn’t real, that how he felt was somehow flawed.

So Thranduil stayed, and he helped Bain with his swordplay and taught Sigrid Sindarin upon her request and played with Tilda whenever she asked and Bard and he bickered and teased and laughed and smiled and just existed together and Bard somehow managed to fall in love a little more every time Thranduil visited even when he was sure he was at his limit.

“Do the colours get it wrong sometimes?” Tilda asked one night while Bard was putting her to bed, Thranduil keeping Sigrid company while she ran some errands.

“What do you mean?” Bard said, while tucking her into bed, unsure exactly what she meant.

“’Acause you and mister Thranduil love each other but you would have said if you could see the colours again.” Tilda clarified and she was far too insightful for someone so young.

It was a difficult question though.

“I loved your mother with my whole soul, there is no question the universe was right to let us share the colours. But yes, I think fate gets it wrong sometimes, but only because it is wrong to think there is just one person in the world for us.”

“You can fall in love without the colours?”

“I believe so. I know so.” Bard corrected himself, perched on the edge of Tilda’s bed as they talked.

“What’s it like?”

“Different, but just as special, just as powerful. You can never compare two loves, but that does not mean that one is stronger than the other.”

“Not everyone thinks that though do they da. Some people say you only belong with the person who you find the colours with.” Tilda pointed out, even though she was yawning and sleepy, she seemed astute to the word already, Bard thought Sigrid probably talked with her about these things sometimes.  

“Some, too many, people do think that. I just think they’re wrong.” Bard answered, gently brushing back her wispy brown hair with his hand.

“I think they’re wrong as well.” Tilda mumbled, eyes dropping as she drifted off and Bard kissed her gently on the forehead and left the room quietly.

Bard went back down to the living room and sat in his armchair in front of the fire, trying to read but his mind wandering often to when Thranduil and Sigrid might get back, having his own question answered a couple of hours later when they came in.

Sigrid gave him a hug and headed straight for bed while Thranduil smiled at Bard and fetched a bottle of the dorwinion wine he had brought with him, pouring them both a goblet full and sitting down in the armchair opposite Bard’s, less than a metre between them.  

They talked and drank and Bard’s heart ached and maybe it was the wine but he did not want to stay quiet about how they felt any longer.

“I’m in love you with.” Bard said simply when there was a lull in their conversation, late in the evening already. Thranduil gave a few small and slow nods.

“You are not alone in it Bard. I love you too as you must have realised by now.” Thranduil replied, the warm flicker of the fire sending dancing patterns across one of his cheeks, for some reason he thought nothing could make the sight of Thranduil sat there by the fire more beautiful, not even colours, they didn’t need them.

“Then why are we not together.” Bard asked, it seemed so very simple all of a sudden.

“You know why.” Thranduil told him and his voice was sad but it didn’t need to be.

“No I really don’t. We are in love. There is no good reason for us not to be.”

“There is no colour.” Thranduil said, but there was no fight in his word, like he was just repeating what he had always been taught by the world, not like he himself really believed it. After all, how could he when they had just admitted how they felt for each other.

“I don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Fate is wrong to think we can only love once because I know different, my heart knows different.” Bard argued gently and Thranduil looked almost ready to relent, he didn’t believe it either, they were in love, colour did not matter. “Besides.” Bard continued, looking at Thranduil’s beautiful eyes as he spoke. “From where I am sitting, black and white has never been so beautiful.”

Thranduil’s face broke into a smile, lighting him up, and Bard knew that his eyes would be icy blue and his lips would be red but he didn’t care, because he was perfect like this, the white of his skin contrasting the black of his eyebrows, the sharp cut of his jaw casting shadows on his neck, the light grey of his eyes shining out at him.

Colour couldn’t make him or this moment or their love any more perfect, it did not matter.

“Can I kiss you?” Bard asked.

“Well if you do not I will come over there and kiss you instead.” Thranduil laughed and Bard grinned, standing slightly out of his chair and bracing his hands on the armrests of Thranduil’s so he could lean down and kiss him.

They kissed long and deep and in all the ways they had wanted to for so long now, and colours did not explode around them and neither of them would have wanted them to either.

“People will say we are wrong, expect us to fail.” Thranduil murmured as they finally broke their kiss, resting their foreheads together.

“Ready to prove them wrong?” Bard challenged and Thranduil smiled a devious smile at him.

“I am ready to prove fate itself wrong meleth nín.”

And they did prove it wrong, and when it is kings that live in love without colour the mind-set of their peoples began to change, because nobody could doubt the way they felt for each other. Slowly people began to believe that there could be love just as real and true without colour as there could with and blacks and whites and greys were no longer seen as something less than.

Bard often mused on the colours, usually with Thranduil curled up next to him or dozing with his head in Bard’s lap. He wondered why fate got it wrong, whether if neither of them had ever met their wives they would see colour together.

Perhaps the tracks of people’s lives were too unpredictable for fate to follow, for if many things had not happened exactly the way they had, he and Thranduil would certainly never have worked so well. Perhaps they were making their own fate. Perhaps it was a test, to love without colour a testament to your devotion to each other just as the appearance of colour could be. Perhaps fate was just flawed. Bard theorised a lot about why they did not have colour, he did not want for it, but still he was curious because with every passing day they only loved more and more.

But many years later as Bard watched Thranduil weep at his bedside as he struggled for air, he wondered at a new theory; maybe fate just was not cruel enough to curse the immortal to love the mortal.

Maybe that was why.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Soulmate au with a twist because I don’t actually particularly like soulmate aus :')
> 
> Comment and kudos are wildly appreciated <3


	123. Punk Bard and Pastel Goth Thran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Punk Bard and pastel goth Thran in either high school or college (Thran is an art student of course and they are both obsessed with classical music. Thran likes moonlight sonata no.14 3rd movement) and they have sex at the school! :O just all the smut!
> 
> Rated: E
> 
> (okay i forgot to make them bang in the school so i will do inappropriate sex in inappropriate places another time i promise :') )

 

Bard trudged down the hallway and pushed open the door to his boyfriend’s dorm room, kicking it shut behind him and managing two steps forward before collapsing on the bed with a groan.

“Hello to you too.” Thranduil said dryly from his desk chair, swivelling around and extending one of his long legs to kick Bard’s shoes. “Get your dirty shoes off my bed.”

Bard huffed and sat up, quickly taking off his heavy black boots and tossing them into the corner of Thranduil’s tidy room before crawling back up the bed, head landing heavily on Thranduil’s soft pillow.

He just got off a shift at the garage and should probably be in his own dorm room where there was far less distraction, doing some work for his seminar in the morning, but he was tired anyway and not going to work and he had wanted to see Thranduil, so here he was.

“C’m’ere.” Bard mumbled sleepily, stretching out a hand and wiggling his fingers at his unfairly pretty boyfriend.

“Your shirt is greasy.” Thranduil grumbled, and it as hardly surprising as he had just finished a shift at the garage, Bard grinned at his boyfriend as he stripped off his shirt and threw it over to join his shoes.

“Better?” He teased, winking at Thranduil who just sighed which really wasn’t the reaction he had been going for.

Bard reached off the bed and found Thranduil’s wrist, tugging him over to join him on the bed, Thranduil’s soft pastel cashmere sweater feeling great against his skin. Bard ran a hand through Thranduil’s hair, that impossible natural silver fading into a pale purple tint at the ends, it always felt like silk in his hands.

“What’s wrong?” Bard asked, pressing a kiss to one of Thranduil’s smooth cheeks.

“You forgot didn’t you?” Thranduil stated not unkindly, biting his lower lip and playing with the hair at the nape of Bard’s neck.

“Forgot what?” Bard replied, which really was just another way of saying yes, yes I did.

“Last week when you had to cancel our date you said you were going to take me to that new restaurant in town.” Thranduil reminded him and suddenly Bard remembered the rushed, tired and apologetic phone conversation very clearly.

“Oh shit.” Bard grimaced, sitting up on the bed and trying to work out how he could salvage the situation.

“It’s okay, you’re tired we can go another time.” Thranduil told him, trying to get him to lie back down next to him but Bard was having ideas, they were never going to get a table now, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still treat him.

“I’ll be right back.” Bard promised, leaning in to steal a quick kiss and diving out the door, running down the corridor and knocking on Tauriel’s door, she opened the door and raised an eyebrow.

“Any particular reason you’re forgoing a shirt and shoes today?”

“Oh.” Bard realised, looking down at himself. “Sorry. Do you have any wine?” He said, keen to get back to Thranduil and not bothering with the bullshit.

“Even if I did why exactly would I give it to you?” Tauriel asked, arms folded, perfectly shaped eyebrow raised.

“Because I’m a terrible boyfriend and forgot to book a table at that new restaurant and am trying to salvage the evening.” Bard gave her the short version.

“Still doesn’t tell me why I should give it to you.” Tauriel pointed out with a grin, not making it easy for him.

“Because you’re my friend and if you do I will introduce you to Kili on Saturday.” Bard answered, he had been going to do it anyway, just like she was going to give him the wine anyway, but still.

“Fine. But you still owe me a bottle of wine.” Tauriel decided, pulling the wine out of her cupboard and handing it over.

“You’ll have it tomorrow, cheers.” Bard thanked her, turning to head back to Thranduil.

“And Bard?”

“Yeah?”

“Try to keep it down later, the whole corridor doesn’t need to know when you two are fucking.”

“I suggest you turn your music up then.” Bard retorted with a grin, fully aware that neither he nor Thranduil gave a fuck if anyone could hear them, everyone was always a little two intimidated by the look of the pair of them to actually say anything anyway. 

Bard jogged back down the corridor and went back into Thranduil’s room, the blonde raising his eyebrows at the sudden appearance of wine in Bard’s hand. Bard motioned for him to stay sat on the bed, finding some wine glasses and pouring them both some, hoping Tauriel had the good stuff. He then flicked on the fairy lights he had bought for Thranduil a few months ago (it was a long story that boiled down to Thranduil thought they were pretty) and turned out the main lights, leaving them with twinkling fairy lights about the room and the moonlight through the window. Finally he grabbed his iPod and found the romantic classical playlist that he had made just for these nights in with Thranduil.

He turned on the music at a low volume and smiled at Thranduil, holding out a hand to him.

“What’re you doing?” Thranduil asked quizzically, but standing and slipping his hand into Bard’s all the same.

“Taking you dancing.” Bard answered, smile getting brighter as Thranduil’s face went impossibly soft.

He reeled Thranduil in and brought an arm around Thranduil’s waist, pulling him close and leaving them flush together as he started to sway them to the beautiful classical music playing softly through the speakers. Thranduil let his head rest on Bard’s shoulder, tucking his face into Bard’s neck and letting Bard rock them gently to the music.

Bard understood why they confused people, the punk and the pastel goth, frequently to be heard listening to classical music. Thranduil was studying art, Bard History; Thranduil was richer than rich and Bard low working class. But they worked together, Bard couldn’t imagine ever letting Thranduil go, not ever.

Somewhere along the way they ended up with wine glasses in one hand, taking sips as they danced in the gentle light, Thranduil looked beautiful like this, he always looked beautiful. Bard lost track of time, just dancing slowly with Thranduil in his arms, it felt right, like he didn’t need anything else in the word than the man he had in his embrace.

Thranduil started pressing lazy kisses into Bard’s neck, working his way up to Bard’s jaw, nipping at it before seeking out Bard’s lips in an increasingly heated kiss. Thranduil’s tongue was playing with his lip ring, Bard loved it when he did that, with any of his piercings really, and Thranduil knew it and took complete advantage regularly.

Bard bit at Thranduil’s lower lip, dragging it forward with his teeth and making his boyfriend whimper before recapturing his mouth in a filthy kiss, eventually breaking away and working his way down his sensitive neck. Bard loved marking up that pale neck, the dark bruises he left behind contrasting all that snowy skin and pale pastel colour perfect, and Thranduil never even tried to cover them up.

“I h-have a surprise for you.” Thranduil said, voice wavering a little in a whimper as Bard teased his throat with his teeth and wound a hand into his hair, tugging it back.

“Oh?” Bard answered, pulling away from Thranduil’s neck, intrigued by what had the other man shy and almost blushing.

“It was going to be a present for taking me to that new restaurant, but I think you’ve earnt it anyway.” Thranduil told him, eyes twinkling as he backed away from Bard and started peeling his pastel pink sweater over his head slowly before discarding it on the floor.

Thranduil stripped for him tantalisingly slowly, his mix of pastel and black coming off to reveal his ivory skin and it didn’t matter how many times Thranduil did this, it always left Bard hard and practically drooling. It was when Thranduil started dragging his tight black jeans down his indecently long legs that Bard noticed and if he wasn’t already hard before he was now.

Bard just watched in unbridled lust as Thranduil was revealed to him, clad in lacy white and black lingerie. A white lace waspie pressed against Thranduil’s pale skin, the lacings fasting it together winding in black, a pair of matching panties, the pink tip of his hard cock peeking out the top of them, and suspended from the waspie were white and black stockings accentuating the length of his legs.

Bard was salivating at the sight, drinking in his delectable boyfriend.

Then Thranduil turned around to reveal that the panties had no back to them, just a little black bow nestled between the top of Thranduil’s cheeks and nothing in the world could have held him back from diving for his boyfriend.

Bard grabbed him about the waist and ground his hard cock against Thranduil’s bare ass through the rough fabric of his jeans, leaving Thranduil making these frustrated little noises and pushing his rear back for more. Thranduil tipped his head back against Bard’s shoulder and Bard bit down roughly on Thranduil’s bared neck as hard as he could without breaking the delicate skin there, making Thranduil moan wantonly.

Bard let out a growl at the sound, spinning Thranduil around and pushing him back to land on the bed with a delightful bounce. Bard pushed off his own jeans and crawled after Thranduil, caging him beneath his arms and legs and dipping down claim him in a kiss, pushing his tongue into Thranduil’s mouth, Thranduil’s own tongue flicking against Bard’s tongue piercing.     

Bard groaned as Thranduil’s clever fingers found his nipple ring and started tugging at it none too gently, leaving him panting into Thranduil’s smooth neck. Thranduil’s free hand was roaming down his chest, pulling at the elastic of his briefs and letting it snap back against his skin a few times as Bard went back to biting at his neck, hips thrusting almost lazily against Thranduil’s thigh, just above where his stockings started.

Bard trailed a hand down Thranduil’s chest, ran it over the lace of his waspie before teasingly lightly dragging the fabric of his panties over Thranduil’s straining cock. Thranduil whimpered a little desperately and bucked up into Bard’s hand, giving him a satisfied smile as he manhandled Thranduil onto his stomach, his boyfriend responding by whimpering again and pressing his ass back towards Bard, getting up on all fours.

Bard let his underwear covered cock drag over Thranduil’s ass, groaning at the teasing friction as he humped against him a few times before Thranduil grew impatient, reached back with one hand and trying to drag his underwear down, Thranduil let out a yelp and a pleasured shudder as Bard repaid his impatience with a hard slap to his ass.

“Patience pretty.” Bard rumbled into his ear, landing another hard slap to the other side of Thranduil’s ass, leaving him gasping and pressing back for more.

“Please.” Thranduil whined, making Bard grin and bite down on the back of his neck.

“Since you asked so nicely.” Bard murmured into his ear as he moved from Thranduil’s neck to bite at his ear lobe instead.

Bard sat back on his heels and ran his hands over Thranduil’s ass, squeezing him occasionally, loving the red marks that were already appearing. When Thranduil let out an impatient whining noise Bard finally let his hand fall back down on Thranduil’s ass hard before massaging the heated, abused skin and bringing his hand back to do it again.

Thranduil loved to be spanked, gasping and whimpering every time Bard landed a hard smack to his rear, his cock hanging heavy between his legs and leaking. Bard wasn’t counting how many times he spanked him, sometimes he made his beautiful boyfriend count them out loud, but not tonight. By the time Bard stopped spanking Thranduil his pearly ass was muddied with red, his dick was dripping precome and a litany of desperate little noises were falling from his lips.

Bard admired his handy work, squeezing and rubbing Thranduil’s cheeks and while Thranduil rested there on all fours, panting from being spanked, head dropped between shoulders Bard couldn’t resist leaning forward and licking a stripe over Thranduil’s puckered entrance. Thranduil let out a long whine and Bard smirked to himself, leaning forward again and using his hands to spread Thranduil’s cheeks so that he could press sloppy open mouthed kisses to his hole before wiggling his tongue inside.

Thranduil was just letting a never ending stream of moans and whines fall from his lips as Bard pushed his tongue inside and ran the ball piercing in his tongue against his inner walls, starting to fuck Thranduil on his tongue. He loved the way Thranduil was shoving his ass back onto his face, the way he would have a sore ass from his spanking and beard burn the next day, he loved how he whimpered when Bard used his tongue to tug on his rim and press inside as deep as he could.

Thranduil was still panting heavily enough from his spanking and rimming that he didn’t hear Bard reach for and pop the cap of the lube, slicking up his fingers and pressing the first one in immediately after he removed his tongue, making Thranduil cry out and lurch forward before greedily pushing himself back on Bard’s finger. Bard pressed in a second digit soon after, knowing how much Thranduil loved to feel a slight burn with the stretch.

Bard fucked Thranduil roughly on his fingers, scissoring him open and easily seeking out his sweet spot, well acquainted with its exact location by now. He found it easily and when he did Thranduil moaned loudly, throwing his head back and arching his back and Bard used that moment to press in a third finger, stroking them deep into Thranduil’s passage.

He could tell Thranduil was getting impatient again by the way he was pushing himself back on Bard’s fingers, which were teasing him by only gently glancing over that little bundle of nerves buried inside him. Bard drew his fingers out tauntingly slowly, Thranduil letting out a delicious needy whine as he did so. Bard shucked off his underwear and Thranduil wiggled his ass back at him temptingly, that little bow nestled between his cheeks perfectly.

But Bard felt like teasing some more, despite his own desperate want to be inside, it was always fun to tease Thranduil. He let the head of his cock rub down Thranduil’s crack and nudge at his entrance, carefully moving backwards every time Thranduil tried to forced himself backwards and take him in. He trailed his hands up the backs of Thranduil’s thighs and toyed with his suspenders, letting them snap back against his creamy thighs.

“ _Please._ ” Thranduil moaned desperately, and Bard moved a hand around Thranduil’s chest to pinch and tug at his nipples while he bit at his shoulders and let his cock rub all over Thranduil’s ass and stretched hole, without ever giving him the penetration he really wanted.

Bard grinned as Thranduil finally lost patience, turning over and grabbing Bard’s arms, flipping them swiftly and straddling Bard’s hips. Thranduil took Bard’s straining cock in one hand and slicking Bard with only the precome weeping from his dick, Thranduil lined himself up and sank down. Bard gasped and gripped on to Thranduil’s hips hard enough to bruise as he was surrounded by the tight heat, careful not to move at all as Thranduil yelped out in discomfort at not having slicked Bard properly.

But Thranduil had always loved the burn, loved just the right amount of pain mixed in with their pleasure, and it wasn’t long before he was starting to move his hips, fucking himself down on Bard’s thick cock, biting his lip and screwing his eyes shut as he chased his pleasure. Bard reached up and tangled a hand in Thranduil’s hair, pulling on it sharply and sending Thranduil’s eyes flying open and making him cry out again, forcing his hips faster.

Bard used his grip in Thranduil’s long hair to pull him down and lock their mouths together, planting his feet on the bed and thrusting his hips up hard to meet Thranduil’s rolling hips, swallowing up Thranduil’s decadent moans as Bard tugged and pulled hard on his hair just the way he liked it.

Bard let go of Thranduil’s hair as his boyfriend sat up again, bracing his hands on Bard’s muscled chest so that he could fuck himself on Bard’s cock faster and harder, changing the angle slightly and shouting out blissful obscenities as Bard’s throbbing dick slammed into his prostate again and again. Bard ran his hands over the silky softness of his stockings, the lace of his waspie, his bare ass from the backless panties, letting his fingers feel where they were connected for a moment before moving them back to Thranduil’s lush ass.

Bard landed a hard slap against Thranduil’s already stinging rear which made his hips stutter as he whimpered before starting up again even faster than before, throwing his beautiful head back and gasping out Bard’s name over and over. Bard snapped his hips up forcefully to meet Thranduil’s every movement, forcing his dick deeper into that impossibly tight, hot and _perfect_ passage.

Bard could feel himself nearing the edge as Thranduil fucked himself on his cock, surging up to wrap his mouth around one of Thranduil’s peaked pink nipples, teasing it with his teeth before biting his way back up to his neck and burying a hand back in Thranduil’s hair, giving it a hard pull as he bit down on Thranduil’s pulse point and snapped his hips up hard, nailing Thranduil’s sweet spot.

Thranduil keened out something that sounded a lot like Bard’s name as he came hard between them, cock utterly untouched as it spurted ropes of come, smearing them across their chests. Bard worked him through it, milking his orgasm from him as Thranduil whimpered and started to go slack and boneless on top of him.

Thranduil slipped off of him and Bard groaned gutturally, not quite having found release. But them Thranduil was sliding down his body and there was a pair of perfect red lips wrapping around his aching cock and this really wasn’t going to take long, especially with the way Thranduil was wasting no time before taking him deep, the head of Bard’s cock hitting the back of Thranduil’s throat, feeling it contract around him as Thranduil gagged before pulling back and doing it again, tongue doing _things_ against the underside of his dick and over the head when he pulled back.

Thranduil was burying his face in the wiry hair at the base of Bard’s cock as he deep throated him, one of his hands massaging his balls and trailing over the sensitive patch behind them, occasionally toying with his hole.

“Thran.” Bard gasped in warning, back arching as Thranduil sucked him down and pressed the tip of his finger inside him.

Thranduil’s eyes were glinting as he pulled back so that only the head of Bard’s cock was between his lips, assaulting the slit with his tongue and pumping his length furiously, violently ripping the orgasm from Bard as he start to fill Thranduil’s mouth with thick come. But Thranduil knew what Bard loved best, swallowing down the first shots of come before pulling off with an obscene pop and letting Bard finish over his pretty face, painting it with his release.

Bard collapsed back onto the bed heavily as Thranduil worked every last drop of come out of him, Thranduil himself finally collapsing with his head in resting on Bard’s hip. He reached down and hauled Thranduil up to lie next to him, spent dick giving a valiant twitch at the sight of Thranduil’s pretty face covered in his come.

They both whimpered as Bard gathered up some of his spend on a finger, Thranduil grabbing his wrist and guiding the digit into his mouth, lewdly sucking the come off it, repeating the process until his face was clean.

Thranduil snuffled adorably and sleepily after that, he was always sleepy after sex, cuddling into Bard’s chest and tangling their legs together as Bard easily wrapped a strong arm around him, loving the feeling of the soft lace of Thranduil’s lingerie against his bare skin, Thranduil’s spent cock nestled back inside the pretty panties, and as Thranduil rubbed himself against Bard in his sleepy post-orgasmic haze, but knew it was only going to be a nap before round two, rather than goodnight just yet.

They were definitely buying Thranduil some more lingerie, especially as the current set had gotten a little ripped during round four…

 

 

  


	124. Halloween Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard and Thranduil meet when they are paired up for some Halloween walk through a forest. Both of them will deny they were freaking out so much that they couldn't let go of each other for the whole activity
> 
> Rated: G

 

**Singles will be paired.**

Bard rolled his eyes as he saw the sign, preparing for his fate of being paired with some random stranger, probably a single mother out with her two kids, who would hit on him all evening. And Bard was speaking from experience, the last three years of it.

Every year Bard brought Sigrid and Tilda out to this terrible Halloween walk through the forest that Bard _hated_ and totally not because it actually scared him, but his girls loved, Bain always managing to be out trick-or-treating with his friends on the same night. (Bard was pretty sure it frightened Bain as well).

And Tilda and Sigrid always went around it together which meant Bard always got paired with a random, and pretty much the only ‘singles’ on these things were single parents following after offspring. Then Bard had to pretend not to be scared (which he totally wasn’t of course) because that was just _embarrassing_ in front of a stranger, especially one that was hitting on you, this Halloween walk was supposed to be for teenagers for goodness sake it shouldn’t scare a grown man.

And it totally didn’t, not one bit, obviously.

“Ah, good finally, another single.” The man at the entrance said, and Bard rolled his eyes, that was, until he saw who the other ‘single’ he had been paired with was.

Over six foot of beautiful in a tailored suit with some gorgeous long blonde hair. Suddenly having to be paired didn’t seem like such a bad thing. The other man turned to look at Bard when he realised he was being paired, a small blonde boy and a little redheaded girl bouncing on the balls of their feet in front of him no doubt wanting to get moving and not being allowed until the man (presumably ta least the blonde boy’s father) had been paired.

He fixed Bard with piercing blue eyes that he felt were almost boring into his soul, dark brows setting off his alabaster skin and a sharp jawline adding to his almost otherworldly look.

“Bard.” He introduced himself, managing to find his tongue, figuring it was only polite as they were about to spend the next hour together.

“Thranduil.” He replied in a voice that was deep and rich and with a handshake that was firm.

“You must stay in your pair at all time. Please do not leave the track. Please do not run.” The member of staff reeled off in what was possibly the most bored voice Bard had ever heard.

He let them past and the combined children set off at as fast a pace their legs could take them without technically running anywhere while Bard and his new acquaintance went at a more gentle pace.

Bard was just about to strike up a conversation with this handsome stranger when there was a horribly eerie noise from somewhere out in the darkness and he flinched instead, just managing to keep his fright to himself instead of embarrassing himself before five minutes had passed.

“I hate these things.” Thranduil bitched, making Bard laugh at his frankness. “Legolas, Tauriel, stay close.” He then called, presumably after his children.

“Me too.” Bard agreed. “And I would guess we’re both here for the same reason? Two children who want to go and therefore getting dragged along as well.”

“Indeed. Apparently it’s a ‘tradition’ Legolas and Tauriel have and if I were to break it and say they can’t come because I don’t want to, I would be worse than the wicked witch of the west.”

“I know the feeling.” Bard laughed again, heart skipping a beat and sending adrenalin coursing through his veins as something in the dark howled.

He really hated these things.

Why did they have to make it so you could only see two feet in front of you?

This was going to end in embarrassment.

“Why exactly do children enjoy being scared?” Thranduil mused and Bard might be crazy but after that last ominous noise it felt as if Thranduil was walking a little closer beside him.

“Pretty sure my girls find these things funny.” Bard sighed, jumping fractionally as something swept past them, just inside their very limited field of vision, half obscured by the darkness.

“Legolas and Tauriel claim their ‘ehcilerating’ which I think is supposed to translate into exhilarating.” Thranduil told him, smile playing on his lips.

Bard was about to speak, but there was a sharp scream and a ghastly pale woman appeared in front of them, disappearing just as fast. Bard may have screamed, Thranduil may have as well, they were now standing firmly shoulder to shoulder as they walked.

Neither of them mentioned it, but they also walked slower now.

Bard laughed nervously at his own scream (not to mention how his blood was on fire with adrenalin honestly he _knew_ it was all fake!), and Thranduil did as well, seeming a little more rigid than he had before.

“Good actors.” Bard said awkwardly, Thranduil letting out a forced nod.

“Very. Lord knows where my children have got to.” Thranduil pointed out and Bard’s were also well out of sight, but the staff on the end never let children go before parents had also emerged from the walk.

“Just have to follow the giggling to find mine.” Bard added dryly, Thranduil smiling a little, that was, until there was a god awful cackling and someone grabbing them both from behind briefly before vanishing.

That did have them both screaming. Loudly.

And if they continued the walk with a vice grip on each other’s’ hands then no one needed to know about it did they?

“I hate these things.” Bard grit out. “Why can’t I just admit I’m scared and will wait at the end.”

“Pride.” Thranduil answered, voice equally strained, and he was completely right of course.

“If anyone asks we strolled through this without a problem.” Bard stated as they crept through the forest.

“Agreed.” Thranduil grimaced, flinching and hiding his face in Bard’s coat as something else jumped out in the distance.

There was a lot of high-pitched screaming, Bard was going to have to claim there was a group of teenagers behind them or something or they were never going to live it down. He could see it now, the teasing would be endless.

Someone – an actor – ran forwards and let out a bloodcurdling scream as they seemed to be attacked and dragged away, weird shadows were being thrown off by the trees, things were constantly making them jump, they were pretty sure someone was following them _and_ they could hear all these noises in the forest that just sounded threatening. So really they couldn’t be blamed for the way Thranduil’s hands were probably going to rip Bard’s shirt with how hard they were gripping, or the way the stumbled around because neither of them wanted to open their eyes, or the way they were leaning on each other as they went and were physically jumping sometimes. And they certainly couldn’t be blamed for all the screaming.

Bard figured they must be nearing the end, which he was both wishing for and dreading because it was a way out, but also they always liked to do something particularly horrible at the end of these things.

And Bard was not wrong.

The darkness making the things jumping out just obscured enough to look real for a split second, grotesque faces and fake blood and horrible sounds and completely fake and yet, they both screamed at the top of their lungs as they jumped out at the pair of them, clinging onto one another and feeling complete terror just as a strategically placed camera went flash.

When they exited, they were both as white as a sheet, trying to regain decorum by flattening down hair and smoothing over clothes before looking at the state of each other and bursting out with full-bellied laughter.  

There were also four children snickering at them. Dammit.

“This never happened.” Thranduil stated, looking at Bard with amusement in his eyes.

“I don’t know, there was one upside.” Bard grinned, Thranduil catching his meaning and smiling, laughing gently and giving Bard a soft look.

It was amazing how much you could bond through mutual terror, and before Thranduil left to take Legolas and Tauriel home, Bard had acquired a phone number and a dinner date next Friday, maybe he didn’t hate these Halloween walks so much.

After Thranduil had gone Sigrid and Tilda dragged him over to the photo booth that caught them all at the end, the girls begging him to buy them their one pulling silly faces, and as he did, Bard couldn’t help but noticed the one of him and Thranduil, wrapped around each other screaming, almost comical expressions of sheer terror on their faces.

He bought the girls their photos and chewed his lip looking at the photo of him and Thranduil, it was making him laugh to look at. Two grown men, practically strangers, holding on for dear life through a walk they knew was all actors and sound effects.

Bard couldn’t help but buy the photo of them both looking absolutely terrified and clinging to each other, and he was glad he did, because when he gave it to Thranduil as their first anniversary present, he couldn’t stop laughing, and it ended up sat on their bedside table for the next sixty years.   

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Yes i know it's like a month till halloween I decided not to worry about it :') )
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


	125. Bard stumbles across Thranduil bathing in a pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Thranduil and Bard first meet when Bard accidentally stumbles across Thranduil who is bathing in a pond in Mirkwood.
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard knew, _he knew_ , he should have listened to his mother when she told him not to go too far past the treeline into the forest.

He also knew he was going to get a bloody earful when he finally made it home. Of course making it home meant that he first needed to find his way out of this infernal forest before he got deep enough for one of the foul creatures to get him first.

Although the choice between evil spiders and one of his mother’s lectures was a close one.

Whatever amusement he could find about his predicament started to fade quickly as the risk of getting truly and fatally lost in this forest became more and more real. His head was growing light, his mind foggy, disorientated, he wasn’t sure what direction he was walking in or quite what he was seeing.

Which was why when he stumbled across a clearing in the forest with the most beautiful creature he had ever seen bathing languidly in a pond, he was fairly certain his mind was playing tricks on him.

And because he was pretty sure the forest was just making him hallucinate he would forever refuse to be blamed for staring at the oasis before him rather than hiding his eyes and affording the stranger the privacy he should.

No, Bard just stood and stared with his mouth open like a surprised fish.

He was only thrown out of his daydream and made to realise that it was in fact reality when the beautiful man in the pond spoke.

“Do you intend to gawk all day, or will have my solitude back at some point?” That voice was deep and rich and like a bucket of cold water over Bard’s hazy mind.

At least he had sounded dry and amused rather than mortally offended.

“Sorry. The forest, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.” Bard told him sheepishy, doing his best to avert his eyes but finding it hard when all he wanted was to drink in the sight.

He had never seen anyone more beautiful, long silvery hair, smooth yet sharp cheek bones, piercing eyes that he could tell were blue even from the distance between them, striking brows and a lean and strong torso. Bard had certainly never seen a maiden fairer, more devastatingly beautiful, just as he knew he should not think of a man in such a way. He blushed and could not help the thoughts any more than he could help but look.

“And why would you think that?” The elf, for it had to be an elf, he would know without seeing the pointed ears, the ethereal beauty gave the man away, though Bard was sure he must be a great beauty even among the elves.  

“Because you hardly look real.” Bard admitted in a race of breath.

“Oh? How so?” The elf asked and Bard rather felt he was being toyed with, the other man looked far too amused.

“You’re just…not what I expected to find in the dark forest.” Bard sidestepped, and the elf smirked at him, standing and letting the water drop down to his hips as he gracefully waded through the water and came closer to Bard.

Bard tried not to look, but his eyes caught on a drop of water making rivulets down his ivory skin and he couldn’t look away until it hit the water low on the elf’s hip. He forced his eyes away and hoped the elf had not seen, but he was smirking at Bard and his lips were distractingly red.

“You didn’t expect to find me and I did not expect to be interrupted.” The elf said, his head tilting to one side and looking Bard up and down, expression considering.

“Sorry. I should go.” Bard said awkwardly, scratching at the back of his head and averting his eyes again as the water licked at his chest.

“Nonsense.” He replied and Bard was about to protest but the blonde elf spoke first. “Do you even know the way? Because you look rather lost.” He teased, back to smirking, but it wasn’t unkind, far from it, it was amused.

“I – yes, I am lost.” Bard admitted, thinking better of lying as this elf may well be able to point him in the correct direction.

“Then it is settled. You will have to stay until I can show you the way out.” He looked far too pleased about this, his eyes were raking over Bard, it made him nervous, he knew what happened to men who lay with other men.

“I couldn’t possibly, I’ve intruded enough already.” Bard stammered out, he wasn’t usually this shy, the elf made him nervous because of how he made him feel bold as well.

“On the contrary, not nearly enough.” The elf leered at him and Bard failed not to blush. “What is your name?”

“Bard, um, yeah just Bard.” Bard told him, glad for a question he knew the response to.

“A decedent of Girion?” He asked but it wasn’t really a question, he clearly already knew the answer, it only seemed to interest him more, especially as he clocked the bow in Bard’s hand. “And are you as talented with a bow as he was?”

It was strange, most people only remembered Girion for his final, fatal failing, not that he had been a truly skilful archer himself. But it had been an impossible shot and unfair to blame him for the wrath of a dragon that the dwarves in their greed had summoned.

“I do not know, I never knew him.”

“I did. Show me, I will tell you.” The elf smiled and again he could not work out of he was being played with or not, but the elf was not unkind in any way, he didn’t feel mocked.

So Bard notched an arrow and look for something that might impress the elf, shutting his eyes and listening to the wind and the forest, he shot his arrow and caught a leaf mid-descent from the tree to the floor, pinning it against the tree trunk.

The elf looked impressed, Bard tried not to preen.

“Maybe you would have made the impossible shot.” The elf mused and him saying it almost had Bard believe it, almost, but maybe belief was all you needed for that sort of thing. “I am Thranduil.” He finally introduced and Bard blanched.

“But Thranduil is the king.” Bard practically squeaked in response.

“Then I suppose you should bow.” Thranduil smirked before laughing at Bard’s expression of shock. “Relax Bard, I was only teasing you.”

“About the bowing or about being Thranduil?”

“Whichever makes you more comfortable.” Thranduil responded, damn elves with their damn riddles. “You are rather charming when you don’t know what to say.” Thranduil commented idly, lounging back in the pond and Bard did not know what to say or do other than blush harder.

He certainly didn’t know where to look either.

(Well he knew where he wanted to look just as he knew he shouldn’t want to look there.)

“Are all elves so beautiful?” Bard asked, the question slipped past his lips before he realised how it sounded, that he thought Thranduil beautiful, which he did of course, but he knew men were not supposed to find other men beautiful, Thranduil let out a short lilt of melodic laughter.

“All elves are beautiful as I am sure you know. But my vanity allows me to say that perhaps I am more so than most.” Thranduil answered, letting his head tip to the side curiously, like he was unexpected intrigued by Bard and loving every moment. “I must say, you are a rather handsome young man yourself.”  

Bard blush increased tenfold at being paid such a compliment by such a creature.

“Why do you become so shy?” Thranduil asked, face full of curiosity and those piercing ice blue eyes boring into Bard.

“You are a man.” Bard mumbled, embarrassed at himself, wondering why the elf was not having him hauled out in front of the town already.

“That is hardly a secret.” Thranduil replied, eyes flickering with something.

“It’s considered an aberration for a man to lie with another man.” Bard mumbled out, blushing fiercely.

“Ah, yes, I have heard that the race of men believe this. I have never understood it.”

“Elves do not think this way?” Bard responded, surprised, a glimmer of hope, maybe things weren’t so set in stone, maybe his thoughts were not perversions.

“We do not understand how any love come be condemned.” Thranduil replied easily, and Bard found himself agreeing, but that was hardly surprising given the thoughts that he had often tried hard to banish as they crossed over his mind.

“Oh.”

“You believed you would be punished for it, and yet you are still curious. Are you just bad at hiding it or are you merely reckless?”

“I was just caught off guard.”

“By what?”

“You.” Bard answered, and he had no doubt this mesmerising creature must be paid compliments every day, but perhaps it was his sincerity or his simplicity that had the elf’s cheek dusting just very slightly pink.

“Quite the charmer indeed it would seem.” Thranduil said, eyes gone predatory and Bard quite liked the look on the elf, he looked like he was about to ask Bard to join him, but then Thranduil’s looked changed to considering. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen.” Bard told him, thinking he maybe should have lied the instant he said it, but also knowing he did not want to lie to Thranduil.

“So young.” Thranduil seemed like he could not fathom such a young age, like he was trying to somehow convert that into an equivalent of elven years. “Come back when you are older.” He finally added, looking liked there was nothing in Arda he wanted to say less but knowing he should.

“That’s not so young.” Bard protested, among mortal men he had reached his majority last year, he should be married already really.

“It is for an elf.”

“I am not an elf.”

“Clearly.” Thranduil smiled at him, or was it a smirk, some combination of the two maybe. “But still, nineteen is also rather young in mortal years as well.”

Bard wanted to grumble about being an adult but figured that would only prove Thranduil’s point more.

“If you are the king, why are you bathing alone in a pond in the middle of the forest?” Bard asked, curiosity getting the better of him, wondering why Thranduil did have so much as a guard with him. “Surely there are safer and nicer places for you to go.”

“It is my forest, and nothing out here could get the better of me. And perhaps become king yourself and you will see how precious some time alone to your own thoughts becomes.”

“I am sorry for encroaching on your hard sought solitude.” Bard apologised, because he understood when Thranduil said it like that, it must be hard to come by in a life like his, even if Bard was having a hard time reconciling the elf in the pond with the stories of the hard and cold great Elvenking Thranduil.

“You are a welcome diversion Bard.” Thranduil answered, and he seemed sincere, it surprised Bard.

“Why, I’m just a man.”

“I feel one day you will be far from ‘ _just_ a man’. Do not sell yourself short Bard.” Thranduil replied, voice firm and then he was elegantly climbing from the pond and Bard quickly averted his eyes and a blush rose on his cheeks as he caught a glimpse of the flawless elven body.

Thranduil laughed lightly, presumable when he saw Bard staring a hole into the ground.

“Come, I will lead you out the forest.” Thranduil told him, having donned clothes so intricate Bard had no idea how he had done it so fast.

Thranduil’s steps were sure and clear as he picked his way through the forest he clearly knew in a way no other ever would, it seemed like barely any time had passed before they came to the treeline, Bard felt crestfallen, he had hoped to spend longer with him. Thranduil seemed to notice, he smiled before he spoke.

“I will see you again, Bard the Bowman.” Thranduil smiled, and Bard turned to ask him when, when he should return to the pond, how long he had to wait, but the elf was already gone, vanished back into his forest.

 

Bard always meant to go back to the pond as Thranduil had bid him, but he half believed he had dreamed the whole thing, and the thought of being unfaithful to his dear wife left him with a sick feeling in his mouth. Years after she passed Thranduil and the pond skated through his mind more frequently, but with three little ones and the Master breathing down his neck he hardly had the time.

But Thranduil had been right; he did see him again and he could make that shot.

He was sure that Thranduil telling him he could all those years ago was why he believed he could manage it when he had needed to.

He often told Thranduil that while they bathed lazily together in the clearing.  

It was the only thing Thranduil ever refused to take credit for.

 


	126. Elf!Bard and Human!Thran

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:   
> Prompt idea: reverse-verse Barduil where Bard is an elf and Thranduil is human
> 
> Rated: G

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 126 in this collection, but my 150th barduil fic - I seriously need a life STAT

 

Bard was aware he probably shouldn’t be out this far without notice or permission or something, he’d always been a little hazy on the policy about wandering outside of the boarders, despite having lived in the woodland realm his entire life, which was no short amount of time.

Then again he’d never been the best at listening and doing as he was told, which was probably why he had never got promoted.

Hopefully he wouldn’t be missed and could get away with slipping off for a little while, he had his bow and was unusually skilful with it even amongst his own kin, he would be fine. Besides, he was only going to Dale, it was hardly treacherous territory, the woods were more dangerous by far.

He was curious, he hadn’t gone with the contingent their king took to the battle at Erebor and Bard wanted to know if Dale was growing to resemble the city he remembered from years ago, he had liked it there in the past and he hoped he would again.

When he reached the mortal city he could see that rebuilding had only just begun, the surviving men of the lake working hard to build their new home. It had been a ruin for so long, Bard was glad to see people in it again, the first sparks of life returned to the city.

None of the men gave him a second look as he wandered through the city, halfway between a ruin and a home it was already better than how they had been living on the lake, if only because that infernal master was dead. Dale apparently had a new king, _Thranduil_ Bard believed his name was, there were many rumours about him and Bard had to admit his curiosity about the truth of them was a part of what had made him curious enough to come.

He’d always found mortals fascinating though, he quite believed that everything must be so much more beautiful if everything was fleeting, sometimes he envied them, immortality could make his kind so stagnated and set in their ways, it was frustrating.

“My Lord please it isn’t safe for you, let someone else do that.” Bard’s sharp ears heard a concerned voice and followed it, turning a couple of corners and finding a tall man with almost burnt looking silvery hair balancing on a ledge as he shifted some bricks around.

It didn’t look too dangerous to Bard, but then elves had superior balance, maybe it was for a man.

“My Lord please, you cannot see properly.” The concerned man spoke again, voice low and presumably intended only for the silver haired man but Bard’s sensitive ears picked it up easily.

Bard was turning to walk away and continue his slow exploration when he heard a sharp shout to his left and the unmistakable sound of someone falling. Bard spun and moved with long polished elven agility and caught the man with silver hair as he fell.

He knew it was the new King Thranduil the moment he saw his face because it became very clear the rumours about him had been true.

He had not escaped Smuag’s fires unscathed.

Whichever elf had tended to the damage was talented indeed, Bard had no idea mortals could survive such injuries, burn scars tearing up the side of his face, blinding him in one eye and Bard would bet stretching over his whole left side.

Thranduil flinched and jerked out of Bard’s hold when he noticed what he was looking at.

“Thank you. I was not aware we were expecting any eleven guests today.” Thranduil said, tone clipped but his voice was deep and strong.

“You weren’t. I came of my own accord.” Bard answered, studying Thranduil and discovering that the other rumours were true as well, he was exceptionally beautiful. Well, what people said was that he _had_ been exceptionally beautiful, but Bard couldn’t help but still think him so.

“Why?” Thranduil asked, Bard could not read his tone.

“I used to like this city very much, I was curious.” Bard grinned, Thranduil looked like he didn’t know what to make of him, his good eye was a piercing icy blue and trained on Bard, like he could dissect him simply by looking.    

“May I offer you something? Food or drink? As a thank you for catching me earlier.” Thranduil offered and Bard could not tell if it was a genuine offer or forced politeness, maybe Thranduil didn’t know either.

“A drink would be most appreciated.” Bard smiled back, trying to put the mortal at ease, he wasn’t sure if it worked, but Thranduil led the way regardless.

Thranduil walked stiffly, a harsh lip in his left leg that he clearly tried to conceal, he would walk easier with a cane, Bard would bet it was his pride that stopped him using one. Maybe Bard would try to convince him to use one, he was no healer but he knew that abstaining from using a cane may only exacerbate Thranduil’s injuries in the long run.

“What would you have to drink?” Thranduil asked, leading the way into what Bard remembered as having been the great hall.

“Mead?” Bard answered and Thranduil turned a scandalised look on him, probably at the mere notion of an elf drinking _mead_.

“Dorwinion wine?” Thranduil replied and it sounded less like a suggestion and more like ‘I do not have _mead_ ’.

“I suppose that will do.” Bard teased, taking a seat and watching Thranduil move around the kitchen, his movements laboured and stiff, but he could already tell Thranduil would take offence if he offered to do it for him.

“I always thought elves had better taste.” Thranduil muttered, presumably about Bard’s request for mead and Bard could not help but laugh, even though it had probably not been intended for him to hear. Thranduil then grumbled something about stupid elven hearing and Bard laughed again.

Much to Bard’s delight, he could see Thranduil pouring himself a drink as well, at first he thought it was because it was just getting late, then he wondered if it was to try and numb pain. There was no way his injuries didn’t cause him pain and that fall would have jostled them, no matter how gentle Bard was when he had caught him.

Thranduil sat down close to him, passing Bard a goblet and Bard couldn’t help but look as Thranduil took a long drink.

“I had no idea men could look like you.” Bard commented, cocking his head to the side and giving Thranduil another appraising look, Thranduil just sighed.

“You mean to have survived such injuries.” Thranduil commented, voice tired, apparently assuming Bard was talking about his scars.”

“No. I mean beautiful.” Bard smiled back, letting the sincerity in his voice speak for itself, Thranduil set an incredulous look at him.

“You needn’t lie just to protect my vanity.” Thranduil responded, voice almost unsure, like he couldn’t quite work out what Bard’s angle was.

“I wasn’t.” Bard said firmly. “Tall, slender yet strong, silvery hair, ivory skin, sharp features. Are you sure there isn’t elven blood somewhere in your lineage?” Bard added in a teasing tone, loving the dusting of pink that appeared on his good cheek.

“Maybe once I was beautiful.” Thranduil sighed wistfully and Bard didn’t like the sad look in his eye.

“I’m sure you were. Just like I am sure you were beautiful yesterday and you will be beautiful tomorrow, just as you are today.” Bard pressed, practically willing Thranduil to believe it, such injuries were a cruel way to repay someone who had just slain a dragon.

“I should cut my hair, somehow I can’t bring myself to.” Thranduil commented after a long pause, looking forlornly at the charred ends. “Sentimental about hair.” he then laughed self-depreciatingly and let it fall from his fingers.

“Well the wonderful thing about hair, of course, is that it does grow back.” Bard grinned and Thranduil scowled at being teased Bard couldn’t help the small smile tugging at his lips.

“You on the other hand have the scruffiest hair I have ever seen on an elf.” Thranduil bit back petulantly but with no heat and Bard found himself laughing again, liking this side to the mortal king.

“I do don’t I.” Bard nodded, pulled back at his temples, wavy, far from silky and kept no longer than his shoulders it certainly made him stand out from his own kind, friends had often offered (begged) to be allowed to treat his hair and show him how to keep it, but over the years he had grown rather fond of it.

“I like it.” Thranduil would have shrugged, if Thranduil did things like shrug and drink mead. “I should return to the work outside.”

“It’s almost dark.”

“It is going to take so long to rebuild this place we have to work into the night or we still will not have proper shelter before next winter.” Thranduil explained, and Bard realised he was probably right, there was a terrible amount to be done and not many people to do it, as well as limited resources to do it with.

“Could you use an extra pair of hands?” Bard asked, and Thranduil turned his penetrative gaze back on Bard.

“Do you not need to go back?” Thranduil replied, elegant hand holding onto his wine goblet.  

“I doubt I’ll be missed.” Bard answered, and he did shrug because Bard did do things like shrug and drink mead.

“I find that hard to believe.” Thranduil’s tone was just on the flirtatious side of friendly, Bard liked it.

“If they do realise I’m missing I’ll just blame it on you anyway.” Bard grinned, getting a soft laugh from Thranduil.

“Go home and get permission. I can’t risk sabotaging my alliance with your king.”

“You greatly overestimate my importance.” Bard laughed. “Besides, I think he would maintain an alliance with you purely to piss off the dwarves.”

“He isn’t the only one.” Thranduil added and Bard remember being told about Thranduil and Dain’s disdain for each other.

After a little while they both headed back outside and Bard spent the evening with Thranduil helping him with the small section of Dale he was working on, meeting his son Legolas when he came to help his father (which Bard was pretty sure translated to ‘was curious about whose company his father was actually enjoying for a change).

Bard left for home afterwards when night had come and everyone was departing to their half built houses and he preened at the way Thranduil seemed loathe to let him go. When he reached the halls of the woodland realm Bard requested an audience with the king, which was made far easier when the king was looking for you too. There was a lot of sighing and telling Bard for the umpteenth time to please not wander off without informing a single soul of where he was going or how long for.

Bard did his best to look contrite and apologised before explaining that he had only been in Dale. He shocked the Elvenking with his next request, but after a few pensive minutes the king granted his request, and the next day Bard returned to Dale with a small contingent of elves, various supplies and tools to help with the rebuilding and a big smile for Thranduil, who looked like he was about ready to throw himself into Bard’s arms, Bard certainly wouldn’t be adverse to the idea.

And well, if Bard never really left Dale after that at least the king technically knew where he was and how long he was going to be there for.

He got in trouble for not telling his kids though, returning from their latest adventures to discover their da had moved in with the newly crowned king of Dale. He got yelled at quite a lot, Thranduil laughed.  

That was probably a bit of a shock to be fair.

 


	127. Policeman!Thran and Firefighter!Bard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was pointed out on the tag on tumbles:   
> Why are there no Barduil firefighter vs police AUs is the real question here
> 
> I felt the need to correct the situation
> 
> Rated: T

 

“Bard, you’ve pulled the short straw.” Percy announced which was precisely what you did not want to hear first thing on a Monday morning when your coffee hadn’t even really kicked in yet.

“I don’t recall drawing straws.” Bard answered dryly, throwing his bad into his locker.

“Yeah you weren’t here. I promise that has nothing to do with why we all decided you should have to do this.” Percy lied with a grin.

“Of course not.” Bard grouched, who ever thought there would be a downside to having Sunday’s off. “Go on then, tell me what it is.”

“You remember the fire on Friday?” Percy asked, it was of course rhetorical, of course Bard remembered, they had raised concerns with the police because it seemed suspicious. “Well they’re investigating it and they want one of us to work with them.”

“We don’t usually mind working with the police.” Bard pointed out carefully, although they could be pains in the ass, Bard and Percy at least appreciated that the goal was to catch arsonists so didn’t mind helping.

They could put away bake sale and calendar rivalries to help catch criminals at least.

“Yeah but this time it’s with DI Oropherion.” Percy clarified and well that explained a few things.

“Oh for fucks sake.” Bard groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“Yeah. Good luck with that.” Percy said, slapping him on the back and tossing his coat back at him. “They want you over at the station.”

“Fine.” Bard grumbled to himself as he pulled on his coat and retrieved his bag, heading out the door and across town to the police station.

There were many reasons none of them liked working with the imperious Thranduil Oropherion. One was definitely the imperious part, he was also a complete control freak, always convinced he was right even when he really really wasn’t, arrogant, haughty and a little too proud.

(And so fucking beautiful that Bard found it hard not to get distracted which was a real problem).

But the real problem with when they were asked to work with DI Oropherion was that he was very, _very_ , twitchy around fire.

And if DI Oropherion is visibly twitchy then it is safe to say he is utterly terrified of fire.

A fact that was hardly surprising given his past, of course if you brought _that_ up you discovered that the beautiful DI did have a temper on him. Éomer had made that unfortunate discovery after trying to kindly tell the DI that no one would think less of him if he gave the arson cases to other detectives. Éomer no longer worked with the police when they needed a firefighter to help.

Usually they ended up working with Tauriel or Feren, but Oropherion was the senior detective so he took the more serious cases, which made sense, until you took his past into consideration.

Bard just sighed to himself as he parked the car outside the police station and flicked his phone on loud enough so that there was no risk of him not hearing it if he was needed for an emergency fire rescue.

Bard pushed open the door to the police station and was once again reminded that they had an unfairly pretty police force in this town. Not that he was complaining. And honestly while he could appreciate that they were all very beautiful unfortunately for him the only one he was well and truly attracted to was the aforementioned imperious DI Oropherion. Not that the DI would believe him even if he was brave enough to tell him, he’d only think Bard was teasing him, to which he would not respond nicely.

There was a time a while ago now, before Bard had lost his wife, that the DI was so confident in his beauty it made him the most intimidating man in the world. But now he was convinced that another casualty of the fire had been his beauty, although Bard would fiercely disagree. Still at least he knew frim experience how to make the DI comfortable (aka how not to piss him off) and that basically meant never look at his face for more than three seconds at a time, not matter how much he might want to.

Bard didn’t care about the burn scars over his left cheek, running down his neck and Bard knew must be down his left side as well, although he never failed to walk and run with ease. He knew the blonde must crave the perfection his face most definitely had once been, but Bard still thought he was the most beautiful person in the world if he was being honest, nothing could ruin such a face, not even a fire.

“Oh yay we get Bard!” Tauriel exclaimed happily, gracefully and somewhat unprofessionally sliding over the counter and linking her arm with Bard, apparently happy about which firefighter they had gotten given for the investigation.

“Shouldn’t you have been hoping it would be Kili?” Bard asked with a teasing raised eyebrow.

“Are you joking? Kili and Thranduil. Working together. I can’t think of anything worse. Except maybe Thorin.” Tauriel looked like she was imagining it and had a suitable look of horror on her face, Kili would probably end up jobless somehow.

“Good point.” He agreed, letting her lead him through the station even though he knew the way. “I like what you’ve done with you hair.” Bard grinned, flicking the slightly shorter, choppier cut she had now.

“Thank you, I rather like it too.” She smiled back, twirling the ends, she and Kili were getting married in a few months, Bard had already promised that he and the kids would be there, idly he wondered if Thranduil would go, though he generally avoided socialising in large groups with the station – or indeed at all – Bard had noticed, he hoped he would make an exception for Tauriel’s wedding, whatever reservations he might have about the groom.

“Well I hate to love you and leave you, but I have a robber to catch and I would hate for the boss to accuse me of stealing all your attentions away.” Tauriel flashed a grin and disappeared, leaving Bard slightly confused, but he just shook his head and rapped on the door.

“Come in.” Came the DI’s equally distracting voice, the whole package was almost offensively delicious really.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking of the Detective Inspector of his local police force as _delicious_ , especially when he needed to work with him for the immediate future.

Bard pushed open the door and was greeted by the sight of a curtain of impossible silver hair pouring over files at his desk, presumably the files the two of them were both going to be looking through. Bard wasn’t a detective, but the fire and police departments had a good record of tracking down arsonists when they worked together, it made sense to keep working together. Bard stood there aimlessly musing about how soft Thranduil’s hair might be for about a minute before Thranduil deigned to look up from the files.

“Oh, Bard. I didn’t know they were sending you.” Thranduil said, which was an odd thing to say, and he almost looked flustered (so for a normal person he didn’t look flustered at all, but Bard was getting a flustered _feeling_ anyway).

“Yeah, lumbered with me this time.” Bard nodded, they didn’t actually have all that much arson in the town (thank fuck) but the police and fire departments always seemed to end up mixing, and when arson cases did crop up they tended to be horribly memorable.

He thought he heard Thranduil mutter something about ‘lumbered’ being the wrong word as he indicated Bard take the chair opposite him. Bard didn’t approve of but didn’t comment on the way the DI was subtly trying to get his hair to cover his left side, however fractionally.

“So do you want me to stick around with you until we catch the asshole or is this more of a preliminary chat, I call you if I think of anything thing?” Bard asked, wondering how much time he was going to be spending with the beautiful but difficult man.

Bard kind of liked that he was difficult, he just wished he knew him better.

“Depends if you agree with me.”

“On?” Bard asked in response so Thranduil’s customary vagueness.

“I think this is the same arsonist that was causing problems up north, there seems to be a trail, all looking equally suspicious and with some hallmarks of the same person until finally ending up here.” Thranduil explained, grim but determined look on his face as he passed Bard various documents.

He poured over them for a while, following the DI’s reasoning and with the evidence presented to him he had to reach the same conclusion. Whoever it was seemed hell-bent on simply causing as much destruction as possible and casualties did not seem to worry them in the slightest. It made Bard stomach turn.

“I’m inclined to agree.” Bard nodded sliding the files back over.

“In which case I would appreciate it if you would work with me until we catch the arsonist. I don’t know fire like you do and you aren’t a detective.” Thranduil pointed out and Bard nodded in easy agreement.

But Thranduil also knew fire in a way Bard never hoped he would.

“Where shall we start? Scene of the crime?” Bard asked and Thranduil rolled his eyes, piercing icy blue and pale milky white, at Bard’s words. He seemed amused at least.

Bard led the way out to the car park only to turn and see Thranduil wrinkling his nose as Bard unlocked his car.

“We are not taking your car.” He stated bluntly, and Bard was about to protest but he continued. “We have to take a police car anyway.” He smirked victoriously as Bard petulantly slammed the door to his car shut.

He was one hundred percent sure it had nothing to do with regulation and that if he had a sleek clean car Thranduil wouldn’t have minded, but it wasn’t like he could prove that, especially when they both knew they really should be in a police car.

Bard drove, the DI automatically slipping into the passenger seat. Bard didn’t actually know if he could drive with his impaired vision, he had never asked, never been in a position to ask, they weren’t close and it was probably a question that would touch a nerve.

Bard knew where they were going, he never seemed to forget the location of fires, even less so as this one had been in a very public shopping area in the middle of the day. It was obvious it was arson, multiple fires going off in the same building, and it was clear from the police report that there had been evidence of kindling to make it burn and spread faster.

By some miracle no one had been killed in the fire, but a lot of people had been hurt. It had been particularly bad, Éowyn had almost died herself carrying the last person out of the building. She had been scolded by them all for breaking regulation and going back in when the risk of the whole building collapsing had been too high, but they all knew they would have done the same if she hadn’t gotten back in their first.

“You and your team. You did very well.” Thranduil commented quietly as they picked their way through the burnt rubble. Bard knew better than to comment on the way the DI’s hands were very slightly shaking as they went.

“We got everyone out.” Bard nodded, he was proud of his team, but a lot of them had ended up in the hospital and were still there.

They were in the burn ward at the local hospital, it was a badly kept secret that the ward was funded by Thranduil’s family when he was in his fire, but everyone knew not to talk about anything relating to Thranduil’s own personal horrors anywhere near him. It wasn’t even the stuff of gossip, everyone knew the story and no one talked about it.

He’d only lost his wife a few months previously, then his house burnt with him and his son inside. Legolas had escaped unscathed physically, Thranduil had not.

“What’s this?” Bard asked, drawing Thranduil’s attention over to something buried under the rubble.

“I have no idea.” Thranduil murmured, getting some long tweezers and slipping the strange, charred and partially melted scale into a clear evidence bag. “Good spot.” Thranduil conceded and Bard grinned at the compliment.

“Huge praise coming from you your highness.” Bard teased in a wild attempt to get him to loosen up around him just a little, he expected to be withered by the coldest glare imaginable the moment the words were out of his mouth.

But instead Thranduil rolled his eyes and got that amused look on his face again. Bard almost died of shock.

“Are we friends?” Bard blurted, embarrassed by his own tone even as he said it, but well, he’d never exactly been sure. He hoped so, but he’d never been sure. If anyone else was Thranduil he would say no, they weren’t, but Thranduil wasn’t like other people and seemed to be, for lack of a better phrase, more than a little emotionally constipated, so Bard wasn’t sure he would know if Thranduil considered him a friend or not.

“I don’t really have friends.” Thranduil answered nonchalantly, but somehow Bard could tell it was feigned nonchalance.

“You want one?”

Thranduil looked so caught off-guard by his response that Bard knew he was only going to accept one answer.

“I, well…yes?”

“Excellent.” Bard beamed, turning back to combing through the rubble, smiling to himself as Thranduil’s bemused expression turned to a soft smile and they carried on in comfortable silence.

The strange scale turned out to be from some kind of poor reptile skin shoes, that were at least, really rather rare. It wasn’t much, but it was a starting point. Bard found he loved watching Thranduil work, he was so methodological in his approach, so ruthlessly thorough and not seeming to let any small detail slip past him.

For the most part Bard ended up making sure Thranduil did things like eat, drink and go home to sleep (he confiscated the files from him to ensure that sleep happened). Bard quite enjoyed it, he got the feeling it had been a rather long time since someone had even dared to try to look after Thranduil, let alone tell him what to do. Bard was half convinced that it was merely the shock of being ordered to do things like eat that made Thranduil comply.

By the end of the second week they seemed to be getting somewhere. Then there was another fire.

Bard raced off to join his team and it took him all of two seconds to recognise the fire as belonging to the arsonist he and Thranduil were trying to catch. A bookshop this time, they always went up fast.

Bard hated fire, detested it, had nightmares about it more than once. But it was always worth it, even getting just one soul out of a burning building made it worth the smoke in his lungs and the licking burns he sometimes caught. He knew it was abstract for the kids, Sigrid and Bain knew they should worry now that they understood what fire really was, everything it entailed, just how dangerous it was. But it was what bard had always done, and he hadn’t been hurt yet, most of the time they were too busy being proud of him anyway. Tilda was still too busy seeing him as a hero slaying the fires with arrows of water. She had brought him in to show and tell once, it had made the teacher practically swoon.

It was only when Bard made it into the police station the next day that he realised something was wrong. Hard to avoid when Tauriel was slapping him around the face the moment he got through the door.

“What is your _problem_?” She hissed, she really could be quite scary when she wanted to be.

“Are the police allowed to slap people?!” Bard asked incredulously, rubbing his cheek, it really had hurt. “What are you even talking about?”

“You couldn’t have called him? Told him you were alright. Even a text Bard for fucks sake! He had a panic attack Bard. Pretty sure he isn’t going to speak to me for months after seeing him like that.”

“What are you – oh, _oh shit_.” Bard jogged towards Thranduil’s office, realising what Tauriel was talking about.

“Come in.” Thranduil answered as Bard rapped on the door, he sounded like his usual self, but when Bard saw him he could see that he looked tired and drained.

“Thran I am sorry I should have texted you.” Bard opened with, not even noticing the nickname as it slipped past his lips.

Thranduil’s face looked caught between closing up entirely, slamming those well-known walls up and letting them crumble down instead.

“I am fine.” Thranduil responded with, face unreadable as he turned back to his work.

“It’s okay to be worried about your friends.” Bard said gently.

They worked in silence for a long while, it was neither tense nor easy.

“I wish you would have called me to say you were okay.” Thranduil was almost inaudible.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Drinks tonight? And a call every time I’m called in to a fire?” Bard suggested, hoping one day he would pluck up the courage to ask Thranduil on a friend date not just a friend date.

“That sounds lovely.” Thranduil smiled to himself, with a look of the relieved.

Of course getting Thranduil out for drinks when they still hadn’t solved the case was a bit of a mission, as was them both finding babysitters on such short notice, so they actually ended up at Bard’s house, his kids asleep and Legolas snoring on the sofa while he and Thranduil finished the (third) bottle of wine Thranduil had brought with him, the taxi due to pick him and Legolas up in about twenty minutes.

“I can’t believe you didn’t trust me to provide the wine.” Bard moaned, even though he really wasn’t surprised at all, Thranduil just gave him a _really?_ Look, it make him huff out a laugh.

“You are many things Bard, a connoisseur of wine is not one of them.” Thranduil answered and he really shouldn’t be able to say words like connoisseur after the amount of wine they had ingested.

“You’re really pretty.” Bard sighed, face resting on his hand and looking openly at Thranduil’s face, too drunk to care that he just said that out loud.

But Thranduil was apparently not drunk enough to forget some things. He immediately folded in on himself, such an action looked strange on him.

“Maybe once.”

“Sumblimelely beautiful right now.” Bard grinned, slurring his words and making Thranduil blush, he had a feeling Thranduil didn’t believe it. “I’ll make you believe it in time.” Bard smiled and slurred at him again and Thranduil’s cheeks dusted pinker again where they were free of scars.

“Are you this flattering to all your friends?” Thranduil asked, voice almost tentative, if Thranduil ever sounded tentative he would be now anyway.

“No. We should go on a real date.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yep.” Bard grinned, popping his p and even in his slightly hazy mind he was loving how Thranduil seemed to be relaxing his face again.  

“I don’t mix business with pleasure.”

“Now that is a perfect motivation to catch this asshole.” Bard declared, looking down at the case files that had never gotten put away.

“The arson not enough of a motivation?” Thranduil asked dryly, but there was a smile in his voice and on his lips.

“I don’t like fire.” Bard said, sitting back down heavily.

“Me neither.” Thranduil murmured, fingers subconsciously ghosting over his scarred cheek.

“You don’t remember do you?” Bard stated more than asked, he knew Thranduil didn’t remember, but now he felt like if he didn’t say he was lying somehow. Like it was something Thranduil should know now that they were friends and maybe possibly soon a them.

“Remember what?”

“You were barely conscious, miracle you were breathing at all really. I was the one that pulled you out the fire. All you wanted to know was if Legolas was safe, then you blacked out in my arms.” Bard explained, fumbling some of the words because of the wine, but coherent nonetheless.

Thranduil looked caught, like he had no idea how to respond. A long silence stretched between them, Bard didn’t know if it was a good one or a bad one.

“I never knew which one of you it was.” Thranduil spoke eventually, voice soft and startlingly sober.

“It was me. You’re heavier than you look.” Bard tried to joke, in truth he would never forget the gripping fear that Thranduil had died in his arms, his breathing so weak. It was always harder when it was someone you knew, however vaguely at the time.

“I am glad it was you.” Thranduil’s voice was practically a whisper, biting his lip and making it an even rosier red than usual.

Their eyes had caught and Bard could get lost in the blue and the milky white alike, he felt like he was living in slow motion as he hesitantly leaning towards Thranduil who cautiously responded in kind. And just when he could practically taste Thranduil’s lips again his own his damn phone started ringing.

It was the taxi.

Bit of a mood-killer to be honest.

“I don’t do business mixed with pleasure.” Thranduil said again as Bard walked Thranduil carrying a sleepy Legolas to the door.

“We best catch that criminal then.” Bard smiled softly, and got an answering one in return, he couldn’t help but kiss Thranduil’s cheek gently.

Whether because of the kiss or that it was laid gently on his scars Thranduil blushed a slight pink again and went out to the taxi.

In all honesty they had been pretty close to catching the perpetrator anyway, but the no business and pleasure rule seemed to have done wonders, because in less than forty-eight hours they were closing in on an asshole named Smaug wearing crocodile skin shoes and making the arrest.

“So am I off the force again now?” Bard asked, eye twinkling and suppressing a little laugh at Thranduil’s blush again, Bard seemed to be the only person in the world capable of making him blush.

“Yep, you’re off loan you can go back to your sweaty friends.” Tauriel teased, flicking Bard on the shoulder.

“Excellent.” Bard grinned.

He got a slap later for sweeping Thranduil into a kiss in front of the rest of the force, but given that it happened while attempting to romance the pants off a certain blonde at dinner that evening, he found he didn’t really mind.

Especially as it was followed by another kiss. And another. And another.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was supposed to be more down with the rivalry but idk im tired and it wrote itself and wouldnt let me change it, I hope you enjoyed it anyway :') 
> 
> Might do a longfic of this trope one day cause i feel it coudl be enjoyable, but who knows ^^


	128. Thranduil and the One Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s an au where Bilbo really does lose the ring in the battle, and Thranduil finds it - as such it gets a bit dark in the middle so please heed the warnings in the tags
> 
> It is inspired by art that can be found [here](http://vrihedd.deviantart.com/art/Thranduil-and-the-One-ring-507435104) which is friggin amazing, you should all take a look and love on the talented artist
> 
> Rated M and with a trigger warning - this is a relatively dark fic and there is the suggestion (that never actually comes to fruition but it is there nonetheless) of potential noncon

 

 

Thranduil moved through the chaos left by the battle, his son was not going to come home and every elven body left lifeless on the ground left a fresh scar in Thranduil’s heart. He was torn between wishing they had never come to this accursed mountain and knowing the devastation those armies would have created if they had not.

He knew Legolas was safe, and while he was not coming home it was a mercy, not having to fear seeing his child as he moved through the bodies.

And he knew Bard was safe, it felt like nothing short of a miracle that he and the children had survived relatively unscathed and Thranduil had held them all so tight he was half afraid of hurting them, but they had only gripped him even tighter.

Elves and men alike had looked at them confused as they embraced, stealing from each other only a few life affirming kisses before being forced to part to deal with the aftermath. They had kept their relationship a secret, but in that moment secrecy was the further thing from their minds, needing to prove their eyes right and feel each other, needing to know it wasn’t some cruel dream fuelled by the fog of the battle.

Reluctantly they had parted, Thranduil needed to comb through the battle field and look for any of his people who might have survived, Bard needed to tend to his own as well. It felt both strange and utterly right to think of Bard as a king, Thranduil supposed he had always felt like an equal, despite all the things that should have made them irreconcilably different.

As he moved through the ruins, remembering every body, every face and every name of his fallen people, something caught his eye which was not the dead.

It seemed to gleam even in the dull light, a gold flash half buried in snow, Thranduil found himself inexplicably drawn to it, like a physical pull he could scarcely explain nor resist.

Thranduil stooped down to pick it up and found that it was a simple gold ring.

He could not explain it, but although he had only just picked it up, he could not think of a more distressing thing than being parted from it.    

Bard had to survive on naught but the memory of his lover for many weeks after the elves left Dale, though they had spent months together as Thranduil and some of his elves stayed to help with the reconstruction of Dale Bard already missed him, missed having him there every day, able to be a real family for a short while.

Something had happened to Thranduil after the battle, something had changed in him, Bard had noticed.

It was hard to say what exactly, hard to put a finger on what precisely it was that had changed. He somehow seemed more powerful, more imposing, more dangerous, although Bard knew Thranduil would never hurt him, whatever the battle had done to him had given Thranduil a sharp edge that was not there before, the only thing that seemed able to soften it again was Bard and the children. Bard wondered if it was Legolas leaving that had done it, or the sheer loss Thranduil had felt for his people.

Their lovemaking was more intense than it had been before, Thranduil would in equal parts take exactly what he wanted when he wanted, and revel in it when Bard pushed back and made him yield. Bard wondered if it was a way of feeling alive, if Thranduil simply needed in those moments to really  _feel_ , he had told Bard in the past that he had believe he was slowly fading form life until he met Bard, Bard had held him tight that night and every night they had shared since.

Where before Thranduil had seemed almost as though he was made of a pure kind of ice, though Bard had always known him not to be as unfeeling as people rumoured, now it was as if there was a fire burning just below his skin. Bard assumed he was angry, not at him of course but at the world, that the losses he had suffered at the mountain had kindled a rage in him that Bard knew would be unleashed upon the forces of the enemy with a burning fury when the enemy finally made his move.

Bard knew he likely would not be there to witness that, but that was something they both never talked about, Bard’s mortality was something that had many times bought Thranduil into fitful tears to think about.

Almost four months after the dragon and the battle, Thranduil departed home to Mirkwood. Due to leave early in the morning and keeping Bard awake all night with his mischievous and inexorable attentions – not that Bard minded – before departing with passionate kiss to Bard and hugs for the children and a promise to return soon.

As it was Bard ending up visiting Mirkwood before Thranduil returned to them, finally bowing to the children’s begs to be able to see their ada’s kingdom, and Percy practically banishing him from his own city before he worked himself to death. Thranduil had been elated to hear it when Bard sent him word they would come to him if he permitted it, sending Bard a letter with his excitement for their visit before making illicit promises with words lewd enough to make even Bard blush, he would fear it was out of character for Thranduil had he not felt the way Thranduil’s passions had changed and grown after the battle.

The forest was even darker than Bard remembered it, it felt more like a graveyard than a place where things would grow.

Thranduil was waiting for them at the gates and swept Tilda up as she ran to him, the Elvenking offering Sigrid and Bain both kisses to their hair as they caught up with their sister, Bard contenting himself with a private smile for now as Thranduil led the way through his kingdom. He gestured to various things and told them all all about it as they moved through the high winding walkways.

Bard watched his love move and noticed that his crown seemed darker than it had before, the branches on it darkened even though they should have been lightening with the season, Bard wondered if it was the effect of the darkening of the forest as the darker things in the wold awoke again too, he would ask him later.

They spent the day with the children, Thranduil intent on showing them every part of the kingdom he was so proud of in the very first day before installing two exhausted and one already sleeping child into their opulent bedrooms. Sigrid looked as if she was going to have a stroke when Thranduil explained that it was her room, meant for no one but her and all the finery inside it hers to keep.

When they were finally alone Bard found himself led to Thranduil’s deserted throne room where he had expected to be dragged directly to the bedroom from the looks he had been receiving since he arrive.

“Thran?” Bard asked with a raised eyebrow as Thranduil moved up the stairs and sat himself in his throne, throwing one long leg over the other, emphasising the lovely length of his thighs.

“Will you not greet me properly?” Thranduil asked, letting his head cock to the side, his eyes seemed filled with hot fire.

“Apologies my lord.” Bard mock-apologised with a smirk before dropping to a knee down below Thranduil’s throne. “My lord, I come seeking your hospitality, will you oblige?”

“Am I only lord?” Thranduil mused letting his head loll to the side, Bard chuckled to himself, standing of his own accord and moving to the steps, Thranduil raised an eyebrow but did not stop his approach.

“My king.” Bard murmured into Thranduil’s ear before kissing his jaw and feel Thranduil purr under his actions.

“My dragonslayer.” Thranduil whispered back with twice the heat and tugged Bard into his lap, the opulent throne leaving plenty of room by Thranduil’s slim sides for Bard’s knees.

“This seems a little public even for you my king.” Bard pointed out idly as Thranduil’s lips moved to his neck and graceful hands were pushing at his clothes.

“I can do whatever I want.” Thranduil purred and Bard thought he almost heard something dark and dangerous in Thranduil’s voice, Bard supposed it was just the lust.

“Be that as it may, I would prefer a lockable door.” Bard commented but when he moved to slide from Thranduil’s lap the hands on his hips tightened hard enough to bite, almost vicious, brokering no room for argument, and Thranduil held him fast.

“No.” Thranduil spoke but Bard did not recognise his voice.

Bard knew his expression was startled, he knew Thranduil would not force him but even this was out of character, a show of force where it was not welcome and not expected. Explicitly against Bard’s wishes even.

Something washed over Thranduil’s features and his hands immediately released Bard’s hips, he looked as though his own actions had scared himself, he stared at his own hands like they had betrayed him before throwing Bard a distraught look.

“I think you may have missed me more than you let on.” Bard smiled, choosing to make light of what had happened to remove the panic from Thranduil’s face, if he had not meant to do it then it was probably merely a result of his long building desire than indicative of anything darker.

“Apparently so.” Thranduil breathed and he looked almost lost in his own skin, Bard kissed him deep before standing and taking his pale hand, coaxing him up and leading the way as Thranduil trailed behind.

Bard had expected one of their more intense and rough couplings, for Thranduil to take him hard and fast, he knew that had been what his love had been intending before whatever happened in the throne room. But Bard ended up taking Thranduil slow and deep instead. Bard could tell from his body language, so very changed from what it had been before the incident in the throne, that there was no way Thranduil was going to allow himself top on this night.

It was almost like Thranduil was scared of himself, what he might do. And that idea terrified Bard to his very core. Bard didn’t know what was happening to Thranduil, but a pool of fear seated itself in his heart. He did his best to ignore it, what happened earlier in the day would not happen again.

They made love the next morning as well, Bard waking to the euphoric sensation of skilled lips around his prick, groaning as Thranduil mounted him and rocked in his lap until they both found completion, trading deep kisses in the afterglow.

“I meant to ask you yesterday.” Bard started, moving over to Thranduil as they dressed and Thranduil placed his crown on his head.

“Yes?” Thranduil prompted him, dropping a tender kiss onto Bard’s cheek.

“Your crown, I thought it had blooming bud in the spring, yet the branches grow dark and nothing is growing on them.” Bard said, remembering how it had looked the previous year.

Thranduil looked confused, though at why Bard was asking or at not knowing the reason himself Bard did not know. He reached up a hand to trace the sharp points of the crown, only to have Thranduil bat him away almost on reflex, his eyes seeming to flash red for a moment, his features darkening, though only for the briefest second.

Thranduil then caught Bard hand in his own, brushing a thumb gently over the back of Bard’s hand, either trying to play off or not even noticing the look that had just come over him, the forceful way he had batted Bard’s hand aside.

“It is sharp, I do not wish you to cut your hand my love.” Thranduil said, though his words were convincing neither of them, Bard said nothing and allowed Thranduil to hold his hand and lead the way from the room.

Incidents like that characterised the whole of their visit to Mirkwood, most of the time everything was normal and they were blissful in their happiness, but occasionally, just occasionally, there would be flashes of something  _else_  in Thranduil’s face. He would be too forceful, his words too dark, his expression too shadowed, his eyes too red as if they were filling with real fire.

It was scaring Bard, but he had no idea what to even say because he had no clue what was wrong, so he said nothing. When the time came for them to leave Bard worked hard to keep their parting kiss gentle and deep and soft, as if trying to calm whatever it was inside Thranduil that was burning up with something.

Bard worried the whole time they were apart and everyone noticed his distraction and when they asked Bard just told them a half truth, that he missed his love.

“A messenger from Mirkwood.” Percy called to him in his half rebuilt study one day and Bard raced outside to meet them, it was Feren, he looked haggard, Bard didn’t think he had ever seen an elf look haggard before, like something was draining him.

“Feren, you have a message?” Bard started, deciding not to ask after Feren’s worn appearance, they were not close and he doubted the elf would appreciate it.

“Yes my lord, king Thranduil wishes to visit you, he plans to be here within the week if all is well.” Feren informed him after having dismounted his horse.

“I would be most pleased to see him.” Bard answered, Feren nodding before looking as though he was going to climb back onto his horse already. “Feren? Will you not rest a while?” Bard asked, the concern in his voice audible.

“The king wanted me to return immediately.”

“It is a long ride, I insist you rest and eat first. I am sure Thranduil will not mind.” Bard answered, a little confused, Feren took on a somewhat pained expression and struggled for words.

“My lord Bard, King Thranduil is, it is hard to say, he is changed.” Feren managed, shaking his head to himself, with one hand still on his horse.

“What do you mean?” Bard asked, that pool of fear that had gathered in his heart all those weeks ago welling up again.

“He– I am not sure how to explain. You will see for yourself.” Feren broke off, his voice was melancholy his skin pallid and without the shine elves usually had, even still he remounted his horse and Bard knew there would be no convincing him to rest.

“Ride safe.” Bard bid him before turning to going to walk away, deep in worrisome thoughts already.

“My lord Bard.” Feren called after him and Bard turned to look, the elf’s expression was conflicted. “Help him.” His words made it clear they had no idea what was even wrong with Thranduil, the cause of the change in him traced back to the battle but it was seemingly less and less likely that it was the true cause.

Bard spent the next days in a kind of mindless worry. He did not know what was wrong with Thranduil so how could he hope to help him, he also got the feeling Thranduil wasn’t going to want help. He was torn between telling the children something was wrong and telling them nothing so they would act as they normally would and pull their ada back somehow.

Bard couldn’t help his sharp intake of breath when he saw Thranduil again. His eyes were no longer blue, they were dark and the hints of fire Bard had seen there before were faint but constant. He was dressed in deep reds and oranges his crown was black and while it retained its old shape it was now formed by dead and burnt branches. There was a ring on a chain around his neck, it simultaneously drew Bard in and made him recoil, he could sense its wrongness.

This was not the Thranduil Bard recognised.

He was terrified.

“What, no hug?” Thranduil asked, his voice held something almost metallic it never had before although it retained its smoothness.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow and looked down at Tilda as he spoke, Tilda had seen her ada’s new appearance and hesitated from her usual greeting.

Bard half expected her to hide behind his leg like she used to when she was little and something scared her, instead she spoke.

“Ada?” She asked, voice tentative, like she was trying to work out who this imposter was.

“Yes pen-neth?” Thranduil answered, his voice softened and lost that strangeness it had a moment ago.

“You look different.” She said, peering at him, much to Bard’s relief Thranduil crouched to reach her eye level, his face had regained a lot of the old softness it usually had with his children.

“It is still me.” Thranduil assured her, and Tilda must have recognised something in his face before she then tucked herself into Thranduil’s arms for her cuddle.

Bard did not miss the relief on the faces of the elves around them, Bard feared it was only a momentary reversion from Thranduil though.

There was a razor’s edge in Thranduil’s voice whenever he spoke to someone who was not his family, even Bard flinched with the sharpness of it. Bard kissed him like he was a drowning man that evening, as if he could uses his kisses to reach into Thranduil’s fae and pull back the elf he had fallen in love with, out of this darkness that seemed to be consuming his very being.

“You hair is going grey.” Thranduil commented idly running his fingers through the streaks of grey that had been added to since they first met – no doubt due to stress, Thranduil had always found the grey attractive somehow.

“It will go all grey eventually. And then, well, and then.” Bard answered, he wasn’t sure why he said it, everything he said seemed to be an attempt to bring Thranduil back to himself somehow.

“Don’t wallow so Bard. It is not as if I am going to allow you to die.”

“I don’t think you will be able to doing anything about it.” Bard pointed out.

“I will do whatever I please.” Thranduil said simply.

It was a change from Thranduil’s norm at the topic of Bard’s mortality, usually meeting it with sadness and pleas not to speak of it, now it was being met with simple, arrogant, dismissal.

“You can’t stop it meleth nίn.” Bard said softly, the old endearment had always warmed Thranduil’s heart in the past.

“Do not doubt me Bard. You think I am not powerful enough to prevent your mortality? You underestimate me. You will not be taken from me.” Thranduil spoke and maybe what he was saying should be touching, that he loved Bard too much to let him go, but Bard was filled with fear, almost dread.

Thranduil’s voice was dark and metallic and swamping the room without even raising his voice and no matter the sun outside a darkness seeped into the room around him.

Thranduil had started speaking in his sleep also, Bard did not recognise the words but he knew it was not elvish. He tried to block the words out as he tried to sleep, sometimes having to wake Thranduil up to stop it.

Bard kept their lovemaking slow and deep and gentle, telling himself it wasn’t because a part of him feared what Thranduil might do if he was allowed to become at all rough or dominating, this new version of him unnerving Bard. Even in bed the ring stayed on the chain about Thranduil’s smooth neck.

He found himself crying a lot when Thranduil was elsewhere, when he could still hear his cutting voice, his vicious laugh, recalling his now menacing eyes, his malevolent smirk. It wasn’t the infuriating smirk it had once been, now it seemed cruel.

Thranduil recovered much of his old softness and gentleness when he was with Bard and the kids and Bard knew that the love Thranduil held for them had not diminished even a little, in fact if anything it seemed to have become an even fiercer love. But the moment he was interacting with anyone who was not them Thranduil changed, nothing Bard could do looked as though it would last.

When Thranduil left again Bard worried, for Thranduil and the elves in his realm.

Bard broke down that evening and sent word for Gandalf.    

The wizard did not dally and reached them soon, the urgency in Bard’s letters must have been tangible to make a wizard hurry, or perhaps he just considered Bard a friend and was quick to help friends in distress.

“Tell me what you know.” Gandalf demanded, as Bard looked up in distress from the swarm of books gathered around him, his own attempt to diagnose Thranduil.

“The elves are saying it is not an illness, they don’t know what it is either. He is, he is  _changed_.”

“Changed how?”

“Darker, his vice, his appearance, his actions. I know he was never the friendliest but now he is malevolent in every move and vicious in every word that is not aimed at me or the children.”

“You and your children are spared from whatever darkness has overcome him?”

“Mostly. Sometimes he…slips. He always regrets it, is not sure why it happened. He still loves us but he is not himself anyway. It is as if the only part of him that remains is the part of him that is us.”

“This behaviour has just started?” Gandalf continued his interrogation, Bard only hoped he knew what was happening.

“No. It was gradual, a gradual change ever since the battle and now he is almost unrecognisable.”

“Is there anything tangible you have noticed Bard? Anything at all, the smallest thing could be most significant.” Gandalf demanded.

“No, I mean his crown has changed and his eyes look like there is a physical fire in them. And there is the ring he keeps on a chain around his neck, but I don’t see how any of these things are – ”

“A ring. Bard tell me about the ring.” Gandalf cut him off, honing in and focusing on the ring.

“It’s just a plain gold band.” Bard said, there wasn’t much to say about the way it looked, it looked like the most innocuous thing in the world.

“Not what it looks like Bard, what does it feel like?”

“Powerful. Wrong.” Bard answered after a pause, picking his words.

“Bilbo mentioned losing a ring in the battle, it could be Thranduil has picked up a magic ring. But he should be able to control such a thing, it shouldn’t be having such an extreme effect on him. Not unless…”

“Gandalf? Wait!” Bard called, chasing after the wizard as he headed out the building at haste, moving back to his horse.

“There are questions Bard that need an answer. I fear for our friend.”

“But what should I do?” Bard shouted after him as Gandalf started to ride away.

“Try to get the ring off of him. Even if my greatest fears are unfounded it is still likely the problem.”

Bard only just managed to hear the last words from Gandalf, and he was still left far too confused but at least now he had a starting point, even if he really wished Gandalf had taken a moment to elaborate at least a bit to him. But something in him knew Thranduil would not want to give the ring up.

Bard heard nothing from Gandalf for over a month, the letter he eventually received was one telling him Gandalf was returning, that he believed Thranduil had happened upon Sauron’s ring, the one ring. A chill ran through Bard and set into his very bones, Gandalf hadn’t needed to write to tell Bard he had to get it from him, that if he did not it would destroy Thranduil and then use him to destroy everything around them.

It was only a day later when a letter came announcing to him that King Thranduil was visiting, there was no asking anymore it would seem.

Bard made the children stay with Tauriel, sequestered away in the city and when he saw Thranduil again he was glad he had done it.

He wanted to run himself.  

It was as if everything Thranduil had once been had been stripped away and replaced by this imposter wearing Thranduil’s skin.

His crown was the shape it had always been but there was no mistaking the sharp dark metal it was now made from, no trace of the woods in it anymore, a malevolent crown. His skin still glowed but it was almost dark, like it was drawing its beauty straight from the pallid and exhausted elves around him, the darkness draining the lives of the other elves while it made Thranduil into something else entirely.

He no longer worse the robes Bard had come to love, but a dangerous looking outfit somewhere between armour and clothes with lines of black metal slatted together, though he still moved with graceful ease, the armour shifting like water when he moved. And there was a red orange glow emanating from the centre, from Thranduil’s chest, right where the ring rested, it looked hot to the touch, like something inside it was burning its way through the metal. Writing glowed on the ring. Black speech.

But that was not the most chilling thing. It was Thranduil’s eyes. They were a void filled only with fire and patient malice. They seemed to bore into Bard and eviscerate him where he stood.

Even as the rest of Thranduil’s face softened, his eyes stayed empty and burning. It was hard to believe that there was anything of the Thranduil he knew left in there.

Bard’s heart broke where he stood.

He was glad he had sent the children away.

One of the drained elves tripped on her dismount, the look Thranduil gave her seemed to make her whither on the spot, any colour that had been left in her face vanished and had it not been for the shaky but strong hand of another elf Bard saw clutch her, he knew she would have crumped. And in that second he knew Thranduil would have only laughed if she did, maybe it had even been his intention.

“Who  _are_  you?” Slipped past Bard’s lips, his voice trembled with some mix of disgust, fear and heartbreak, those empty eyes pinned him where he stood.

“My love?” Thranduil’s voice was less than an echo of what it had once been, warm and rich around Bard, but there still was that echo, a reminder of who Thranduil had once been, his words said it too, called for help. Bard repressed a sob.

“You are not yourself. You are changed.” Bard said, backing away as Thranduil came forward, he had always walked with purpose, now he strode with a gait like a cruel tyrant.  

“Bard are you well?”

Bard could not cope with the juxtaposition of that voice and those eyes mixed with the tender words and still soft hands cupping his face. He held back another sob and shook his head, pulling away from Thranduil’s hands and moving inside. He did not want this to happen outside. People were already watching from the shadows, too scared of whatever it was the once kind Elvenking had become.

“You worry me meleth, what is wrong?” Thranduil asked once they were inside, moving to hold his face again, Bard moved from his grasp, shaking his head. “Why do you recoil from my touch?” That was a demand, his voice staking on a steel that Bard did not like.

“Do you not see yourself? See what you have become?” Bard hadn’t meant his voice to come out as a desperate gasp.

“Do not speak to me thus. Do you have no respect.” It was spat back at him like venom, Bard was not ready for the slap that landed across his cheek, but what was worse was that the same hand then soothed over the burning flesh as if to comfort Bard, as if he had not been the one to hurt him, there was no apology or regret in Thranduil’s face, it was jarring. “I was elated to finally have the time to come and be with you my love and the only words you have for me are rude. You have yet to even kiss me.”

“I will not kiss you.” Bard shook his head, taking another step back.

Something forbidding set into Thranduil’s face. Something that did not abide being disobeyed.

Fear set into Bard’s bones deeper than before as Thranduil had him by the neck against a wall before he could blink.

Thranduil smirked his now malevolent smirk and forced his lips against Bard’s unyielding mouth, dragging him unwilling into a kiss that seemed like Thranduil was trying to devour him entirely.

“There. Was that such a hardship.” Thranduil asked, voice mocking as he released Bard’s neck and stepped back, offering Bard his hand to hold as they walked as if what had just passed was okay and normal between them, face softened again.

“You are a monster.” Bard shook his head, whishing there was somewhere he could retreat to, he knew tears were tracking down his face.

He could neither look at what Thranduil had become nor look away.

Thranduil’s face hardened again as Bard spoke.

“Then I am a monster you love.” His words were almost a snarl, he grabbed Bard’s forearm but Bard ripped it from his grip.

“No. Not like this. I do not love this.” Bard shook his head with dread and attempted to move away, only to find himself spun and shoved hard back against the hard wall.  

“No Bard. You love me. You’ve all but written sonnets about my every quality, emotional and physical.” He sneered, as if the love Bard felt for the person the ring was destroy was a subject of ridicule. “Perhaps I should take you to bed right now. Remind you as you seem to have forgotten.”

“No.” Bard fortified his voice. “You will not touch me.” Thranduil face went dark, a menacing shadow clouding over his features, the fire in his eyes flaring with anger.

“I will do whatever I please and you will accept it and thank me as you should.” Thranduil ‘s voice was dangerous and low, Bard felt like he was going to be sick as that hand returned to his neck and the other began pushing at his clothes.

“Thran get off me, please Thran don’t do this, don’t try to do this.” Bard pleaded, he did not know if he could live with the knowledge that this creature wearing Thranduil’s face would do this to him.

The only answer to his plea was Thranduil forcing the palm over the crotch of his trousers and palming him roughly.

Bard let the hurt and rage in him build up and he found the strength to push Thranduil from him, despite the elf’s superior strength.

Thranduil landed another strike across Bard’s cheek but he stepped away, fixing Bard with a look of annoyed derision.

“I do not wish to fight with you my heart but you must not be difficult.” Thranduil said almost conversationally, Bard balked at his words, still managing to be surprised. “Now where are my children, I wish to see them.”

“They are not here.”

“Well why not they knew I was coming. Where are they?”

“Away from you. And I am glad of it.”

“You will not keep my children from me.” Thranduil’s voice was a warning, vindictive and dangerous.

“You are not yourself.” Bard shook his head wildly. “It’s the ring Thran you have to take it off. Look at what you’re  _doing_. Please take it off, if there is any part of you left that still loves me then you have to take it off.  _Please_  I cannot lose you, not like this.” Bard pleaded.

“Bring them to me now or there will be consequences.” Thranduil demanded, his voice cut through Bard and ignored Bard’s own words. “I have missed them far too much these past weeks.”

“I will not.”

“Do not disobey me Bard.”

“I will not let them within ten leagues of you. Of what you have become.”

Perhaps the words were a mistake, but they were the truth. Either way Bard found a hand around his neck for the third time.

Thranduil lifted him until his feet left the floor, choking him and forcing him to eye level. Bard could feel his windpipe begin to get crushed under the power of Thranduil’s hand.

Thranduil didn’t even say anything, he just looked at Bard as he choked with a cut off bored detachment as the man he professed to love had the air starved from him.

Bard didn’t even know if he wanted to be put down. It would be easier to die in that moment and never have to live with the memory. But still he struggled and clawed at Thranduil’s hand, pleading for mercy with his eyes, Thranduil squeezed tighter.

Thranduil threw him by the neck to the wall, Bard felt his head crack against the wall and the world went dark.

 

 

Thranduil heard a deafening crack followed by a dull thud as Bard hit the wall and dropped to the floor.

It woke something in him and he stared at Bard’s form crumpled on the floor, a strange wave of feelings trying to reach him, muffled by the fog the ring seemed to cloak him in.

Then he saw the blood pooling around Bard’s head and it was like a break in the fog.

Like a knife to his chest the realisation of what he had done hit him.

He caught sight of himself in a looking glass and recoiled.

Already he could feel the power of the ring drowning him again, Bard and his feelings for him started to feel distant again, the implication of what was before his eyes crumpled on the floor in pooling blood dulling in his mind.

Thranduil ripped the ring from around his neck and threw it across the room as he rushed to Bard’s side, cradling his head and panicking at the blood pouring from a deep gash in his scalp. He had done that. He had slapped him, forced himself on him, chocked him, and thrown him against a wall hard enough to split his head open.

“No no no. Bard wake up. I did not mean it. Hate me, despise me, send me away and never speak to me again you just have to wake up. Bard please. Bard I cannot – ” Thranduil pleaded and begged as Bard lay limp in his arms, head wound bleeding profusely eve as Thranduil tried to stop it.

He dared not check if Bard was even breathing.

“Help!  _Please_ , help me.” Thranduil shouted, managing to make his voice carry loud even as it broke.

It was only second before the doors snapped open and his elves rushed in, Thranduil winced to see them. See how the darkness he had forced on them all had been draining their lives away. They paused as they took in the scene before them, Thranduil crying and cradling the limp and bleeding body of his lover. They knew there was only one person who was in the room to have hurt Bard. They also seemed to see something about Thranduil had snapped back.

“Please help him. Help him. Take him from me please. You have to save him. Please I cannot–  I didn’t mean– ” Thranduil broke off into a sob because he remember, he had meant it, under the influence of the ring he had meant it.

His elves flew into action and carefully scooped Bard from his arms, carrying him into the dining room, Thranduil could see them lying him on a table from where he sat covered in his blood on the floor.

He shook violently where he sat and did not get up as elves and men rushed past and around him to save Bard. He supposed no one knew what to say to him, what they dared say to him.

Thranduil said nothing either, he just sat and shook on the floor, Bard’s blood staining his skin, marking his guilt. Thranduil stared at his hands dyed red and he knew he would never be able to forget the sight in life or in death. It would haunt him through eternity and he would deserve it.

“My lord? Are can you hear me?”

Someone was speaking to him, it was like there was cotton in his ears. He looked up and tried to concentrate on the tired elf before him.

“King Bard will live. His skull is fractured but –  ”

Thranduil did not stay to hear, tuning the elf out again as he stood and walked from the building. Someone called after him and he did not stop. He walked through Dale and back to the wilderness, shedding his dark metal clothes until he was left in his tunic and leggings, soft underclothes. He crossed the lake and entered his dark forest, discarding his metal crown and wishing one of the foul things festering in the wood would kill him where he stood.

He did not know he was heading in a specific direction until he reached it. He laughed cruelly at himself as he recognised the clearing as a place he had loved and shared with Bard. He had never felt hatred as viscerally as he did towards himself now.

He sunk down by the tree they had sat under curled together and prayed for death, though he knew he deserved less, nothing so easy. He was a coward and he wanted to die. He wanted to run somewhere he could never be found.

Thranduil sat there under their tree and did not move, neither eating nor drinking in some kind of attempt to waste himself into oblivion, into death.

He knew it must have been over a week, maybe two, before he was found. When he saw who it was that had found him he wanted to run, but he had not the strength anymore, he knew he must be close to death.

Thranduil screwed his eyes shut and tried to tell bard to leave him, to tell him how he hated him and then leave him there to die, but his voice had dried up and he could not manage the words on his dry throat.

“Oh you  _stupid_  elf. What have you done to yourself?”

Thranduil broke at the care and concern in Bard’s voice. He did not deserve it. He deserved only hatred.

There was a skin of water being pressed to his lips. Thranduil refused to swallow, let it spill down his chin instead.

“Dammit Thranduil. Drink the fucking water or I swear I will never forgive you.”

Thranduil drank that time.

“Thank you.”

There was a kiss pressed to his cheek and Thranduil would have cried if he could.

Thranduil could smell the lembas as it was pressed to his lips. He did not open his lips.

“Eat it Thranduil. Right now.”

Thranduil did as he was told as pieces of lembas and sips of water were fed to him. His eyes opened at some point and he watched Bard as he cared for him, cared for the man who had almost killed him.

Bard’s hands were gentle and he got Thranduil to take a whole square of lembas and two skins of water before he deemed it sufficient for now.

Thranduil stared at him, lost, he did not understand why Bard would do this for him after what he had done. He should be left to die alone and hated.

“Oh my love.” Bard said softly, as if he could read everything in Thranduil’s eyes just with a look.

He manoeuvred Thranduil until he was tucked against Bard’s strong chest, his ear against him, he could hear his heart beating.

Bard only spoke after long moments of holding Thranduil to his chest.

“It was not your fault.”

Thranduil shook his head viciously against Bard’s chest.

It was his fault.

Bard held him tighter, stopped his movements with a hushing noise, both soft and firm.

“Listen to me.” Bard’s voice was commending enough to cut through Thranduil’s turmoil and take his attention. “You know what that ring is. You did not stand a chance against it. Very few in the world would and you had it for months.”

“I hurt you.” Thranduil’s heard his voice as a raspy whimper.

“It was not your fault.”

“I cant forgive myself.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You were not you.” Bard told him but Thranduil remembered the blood on his hands,  _his_  hands. “I am just glad to have you back, whatever we had to go through to get here. I missed you.”

“You should hate me.”

“I could never.” Bard breathed, kissing his head and holding him tight, rocking Thranduil gently in his arms. He did not deserve this tenderness. “You have to believe it was not your fault.

“I can’t. I remember it. I remember doing it. I can see everything I did to you though my eyes. It replays in my head in a never ending cycle. My hands at your throat, on you without consent, striking your face, tossing you to the wall. My hands did that. Me.”

“Oh Thran.” Bard whispered, his voice was almost apologetic, as though he was the one that was sorry that Thranduil had to remember his own actions. Lips were pressed to his hair and Bard’s strong arms held him tight and he didn’t deserve any of it. “Will you make me a promise?”

“Anything.” Thranduil whimpered, torn between curling into Bard’s embrace and throwing himself onto his own sword as he knew he deserved.

“Promise me you will forgive yourself even though there is nothing to forgive. I know you would never do that, any of it, not really not when you are you. Promise me you will believe me when I tell you it was not your fault. None of it.”

“I will try.”

He spent every day of the rest of Bard’s life with him and Bard still loved him and not once held what he had done against him.

He would tell Thranduil it was not his fault every time he caught guilt plaguing his features, his love was an observant one, and Thranduil tried to believe him.

But he never succeeded.

Thranduil could never find it in himself to forgive his own actions, but he worked hard to make Bard believe he had, it made his love happy to think he had and that was the only purpose Thranduil could find in his days, the only thing that gave him the right to still be breathing, was his ability to make Bard happy.

And when Bard was taken from him by the relentless passage of time, Thranduil finally let the sorrow at his passing and wracking guilt consume him.

He died the way he deserved; alone and in darkness.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, sorry for being a slacker lately with updates and writing, uni work and a low-key breakdown has been preventing me, but I hope to get back to normal soon <3


	129. Hogwarts professors au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is for my beautiful friend Ju, a birthday (which is today) and Christmas present <3 I remembered you telling me that you thought Hogwarts au’s were rad, so here, have a Hogwarts au ~ I hope you like it my dear and I hope you have a wonderful birthday and a very happy Christmas ^^
> 
> Rated: T

 

 

Bard reckoned he could take about ten more minutes of Professor Gandalf speaking before he either fell asleep or tucked into the food in front of him whether he was given leave to or not. 

He had barely slept last night because Tilda was up all night worrying about what house she would be sorted into – she had ended up in Hufflepuff and Bard would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud – and they had all failed to get up in time this morning and had nearly missed the train, meaning Bard hadn’t eaten more than some pumpkin pasties since dinner the night before.

Which was less than ideal.

Bard tuned in when he heard himself – one Professor Bowman – being named in the speech and he realised Gandalf was naming the heads of houses for the first years, and he listened in just in case he was expected to do anything but smile and stay awake.

“I would also like to welcome Professor Oropherion, who will be both our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and the new head of Slytherin house.” Gandalf introduced and Bard’s head was drawn in the direction the headmaster was indicating and he did his best not to fall off his chair.

The fact that he had not noticed Professor Oropherion before was a testament to just how hungry he was.

Sleek and straight silver blonde hair cascaded down past his shoulders and he was dressed in fine robes and Bard could only imagine how shabby he would look next to him (and he already rather wanted to be next to him). His features were fine, cheekbones and jawline sharp, eyes so piecing Bard could see that they were ice blue even from where he was sat. His eyebrows were dark, an enticing contrast to his ivory skin and silver hair and there was a large and cruel scar ravaging half of his face, one of his blue eyes clouded over milky white. The scar would scare the first years, only with magic could he have possibly survived whatever had caused it.

It did nothing to dull his beauty, his allure, not to Bard, he was the most intriguing person Bard had ever seen.

Professor Oropherion did no more than incline his head towards Gandalf and then the students in acknowledgement and Bard knew he wasn’t the only one who was drawn in by his apparent detachment.

After that it was only a moment before Gandalf bid them a happy feast and Bard swiped the nearest drumstick and swiftly demolished it, after which he could turn his attention at least half away from the food and to Elrond on his left, the Ancient Runes professor who seemed to know everything.

“Who’s this Professor Oropherion then?” Bard asked, going for nonchalant and knowing he was fooling no one (or at least not Elrond) by his knowing look.

“His name is Thranduil, he’s an old friend of mine actually. He was a student here like you, like most of us really. Though I guess he would have just left when you started, otherwise I imagine you would remember him.” Elrond commented with an amused twist to his mouth.

“Might not.” Bard mumbled, even though they both knew it was crap, no way he could ever forget a face like that one. “How did he get his scar?” Bard couldn’t help but ask, even though he knew it was hardly his right.

“If you wish to know that you will have to ask him yourself. Though he isn’t usually particularly forthcoming with personal information. Or indeed conversation of any kind. He is notoriously chilly to people in fact.” Elrond commented idly, he looked endlessly amused.

“Any tips on getting to know him?” Bard muttered, trying not to get too embarrassed or caught staring.

To be fair he hadn’t had a crush on anyone since when he was a student and saw his late wife for the first time.

“Blind hope?” Elrond suggested and Bard grimaced before swiping another load of food onto his plate.

Thranduil caught him staring and Bard did his best not to turn the colour of a tomato.

(He failed.)

Bard didn’t get a chance to talk to the mysterious new edition to the faculty that evening as Thranduil promptly disappeared straight after the feast, vanishing as if by magic, although Bard knew they couldn’t apparate on school grounds. Though if he was being honest it was probably a good thing because he was exhausted and had classes to teach the next day.

He met his first years at the entrance to the Castle, something he didn’t usually do but would stop them from getting lost on the way to class, before leading them out to the lake for their first lesson. He was always caught between liking to ease the muggle borns in to the magic creatures in the world, and loving the expression on their faces when he wowed them in the first lesson.

Today he had gone for wowing.

Honestly the giant squid that lived in the lake was ridiculously large, and giving them a quick view of it always sent them into awe and he had their rapt attention for the next hour while he lead them around talking about various creatures they would be learning about. His Owl and Newt classes were brimming with students, something which he was exceedingly proud of and knew it had at least a little to do with how interactive and hands on his classes were, but still, hand on and first years never went well, so they would have to wait for the really fun stuff to start until next year.

Up next were his seventh years and they all called him mean but he started with a test to see how much (if anything) they remembered from over the summer to see exactly how much they needed to recap. He had a treat planned for them at the end of term though, his friend worked with the dragons in Romania and owed Bard a favour, so with the permission from Gandalf (which was worryingly easy to get) he had organised for one of them to be brought over for the students to learn exactly what Dragon-handling entailed. He knew at least a couple of them had been talking about it as a career path, he was hoping to spur one of them on for it and make the other realise it really wasn’t going to be for them.

During lunch he ended up having to rush his glorious food because of an altercation between a few third years, some of his Hufflepuffs and a couple of Slytherins. It was pretty rare that his house got into fights, and he wasn’t in the best mood about it given that it was the very first day of term. However, then he remembered who the new head of Slytherin house was and he was distinctly less annoyed at being called away from his food to deal with it.

“Professor Bowman, thank you for joining us.” Thranduil said as Bard joined them in his office and Bard did his very best not to get distracted by the deep velvet of his voice.

“No problem.” Bard smiled even though there definitely was a chance that Thranduil had meant it a little sarcastically because he had failed to run here.

And maybe he was delusional but he could swear he saw amusement flash in Thranduil’s eyes.

“So, what happened?” Bard asked, fixing his two students with a look that never failed to get the story from them, it tended not to work so well on other houses.

When he had sifted through all the he said she saids and half—truths it became pretty clear that it was a case of name calling, it seemed one of the Slytherin students had decided to use the term mudblood about one of their friends, they had come to demand an apology and had ended up in a fight.

“Is that true.” Thranduil spoke suddenly, it had just been Bard talking to the students until then, now Thranduil’s boring gaze was fixed on his own students and Bard was amazed they didn’t wither from fear.

“Yes.” One of the Slytherin student’s squeaked, apparently having the good sense – or enough abject fear – not to lie to Thranduil.

“Which one of you said it?” Thranduil demanded.

“Both of us. First me.”

“Then me.” They admitted, looking like they expected to be strung up in the dungeon even though Bard knew for a fact they hadn’t done that in a very very long time.

“You will both be in detention for a month and if I ever,  _ever_ , hear you using such a term again I will be petitioning Professor Gandalf for your immediate expulsion. Do I make myself  _clear_?”

“Yes Professor Oropherion.”

“Dismissed.” Thranduil said and Bard had never heard ‘dismissed’ sound more like ‘get out’ in his life. He then turned to the Hufflepuff students and his demeanour softened slightly. “It is up to Professor Bowman whether or not to punish you two for the fighting, however, if any of my students ever use such a term again you will report it to me immediately and it will be dealt with.” Thranduil said and Bard’s students nodded.

“I’ll forgo punishment this time. But I am very disappointed in you both, and if I hear about you fighting again, whatever the provocation, I will not be so lenient. Understood?”

“Yes Professor Bowman.” They said looking relived and dejected at the same time, and Bard nodded his head to let them know they could leave.

“Well, that was a charming way to start the term.” Thranduil said, voice dry and sarcastic.

“I think we dealt with it well. We make quite the team.” Bard teased. “Bard Bowman.” He introduced himself properly, offering Thranduil a hand to shake, which he took with another flash of amusement.

“I know. Thranduil Oropherion.” Thranduil’s hand was surprisingly warm in his own.

“I know.” Bard smiled and he could swear they had a moment.

Despite what Elrond had said about Thranduil being infamously prickly and cold to people he didn’t know – or indeed just people in general – Bard never seemed to get the brunt of it. He saw it trained on other people, he saw how detached Thranduil was from everyone, how he kept his distance and how even Elrond had trouble drawing a conversation out from him. But Bard never encountered those same problems.

At meal times he would usually find Thranduil seated beside him and easy conversation flowed between the pair of them. When the duelling club asked Thranduil to come and demonstrate for them in was Bard he invited to be his duelling partner and the students looked like they were going to die from shock when Bard managed to get musical laughs out of the mysterious Dark Arts professor.

And so it went on, little moments shared between them turned into the majority of their spare time spent together. Bard was particularly fond of the evenings spent drinking wine in Thranduil’s chambers – one of which had ended with them both drunkenly chasing each other on old brooms around the Quidditch pitch (Thranduil had claimed to be the superior flyer and Bard demanded he prove it) and Gandalf looking torn between laughing and scolding them both.

Luckily none of the students had heard about that, it would seriously damage Thranduil’s mysterious and dangerous demeanour.

How was it magic still hadn’t come up with a cure for a hangover? That was a rough morning for them both, although Thranduil had still looked immaculate of course.

“You know, I was beginning to wonder if you ever come outside.” Bard grinned as he recognised the tall beautiful blonde gliding across the grounds towards him.

“What are you talking about Bard?” Thranduil asked, that quirk to his mouth and turn of his voice that Bard had come to know as fond amusement.

“You’re a hermit.” Bard teased and Thranduil scowled at him. “And you’re very pale. Lack of sun.”

“I’ll be sure to start sunbathing on the grass.” Thranduil said with a wry smile, Bard idly hoped he might forgo his shirt to do so, and that maybe he wouldn’t mind reclining on Bard’s bed instead of the grass.

“I like it though.”

“Like what?”

“Your ivory skin. It’s beautiful, much like the rest of you.” Bard smiled trying not to blush, Thranduil smiled back.

“Once I might have believed you. But thank you anyway.” Thranduil said, sitting down elegantly beside Bard on the log. “Are you preparing for tomorrow’s lessons?”

“Indeed I am.” Bard said, continuing the preparation for his lesson with centaurs, it was a long convoluted story about how he was on friendly terms with a couple of them that went back to when he was a student here, but it meant that the two of them didn’t mind coming in for a class. “Tomorrow is centaurs for my sixth years, boggarts for the thirds and animagi for the fourths.”

“Sounds like a fun day.” Thranduil said and Bard was looking forward to it. “I used to be an animagi.” He added quietly.

“Used to be?” Bard pressed gently, he didn’t know anyone could stop being an animagi.

“I haven’t tried to change since my injury. I’m not even sure if I can anymore.” Thranduil answered, Bard still wondered how he had gotten the scar, though he never asked, but he had come to suspect it stretched down his entire left side.

“You should try again.”

“I wouldn’t want to do it alone.”

“Well lucky for you I happen to know another animagi who I am sure would accompany you on your adventures.” Bard smiled, knocking Thranduil’s shoulder with his and trying to lighten the air between them, he didn’t like it when Thranduil looked melancholy, and he did far too often for Bard’s tastes.

“Which animal?” Thranduil asked.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Bard teased and Thranduil rolled his eyes affectionately.

“Perhaps another night.” Thranduil smiled and Bard hoped that one day they would be able to play around in the grounds together, he tried to imagine what Thranduil would turn into and he couldn’t help but imagine a cat.

Snow started falling around them, reminding them both of how late in the term it was already and Bard couldn’t help but tuck a loose bit of hair behind Thranduil’s delicate ear.

“Are you cold?”

“I tend not to feel the cold.”

“Do you want to go inside anyway?”

“Only if you’re done.”

“Yeah, I’m done.”

Neither of them felt the need to comment on the way Bard took Thranduil’s hand as they walked, nor did they on the way Bard kissed him goodnight before disappearing to his own room, but Bard couldn’t get Thranduil’s smile out of his mind all night, or indeed the next day, so Bard kissed him again at breakfast. Thranduil scolded him because the students could see and it was ‘unprofessional’, but Bard could see the smile tagging at his pink mouth and the happiness twinkling in his eyes. He could also see Elrond and Gandalf taking money off the other professors as if they had just won a bet.  

Thranduil came to his classes occasionally, he seemed to love all the creatures the world had to offer, he would watch and smile at Bard and when the class was over he would come over and ask Bard more questions, ones which usually involved ‘let me pet it Bard’ with answers like ‘no Thran I’m far too fond of your pretty hands’ and then Thranduil would pet them anyway and for some reason all the various creatures seemed to take to him instantly. Well, Bard couldn’t fault their taste in people anyway.

He was perched on a rock at the back of Bard’s class today as well, he had met them out the front as Bard started to lead them through the forest for his end of term surprise. The dragon, a Hebridean Black, all dark rough scales and a spiked tail, bright purple eyes and a good length of thirty feet. He had a charmed the covering on the cage to be both sound proof, fire proof and a clever little charm that made it sit still as well.

He was determined not to have anyone able to guess what was in the cage under the cover, he was looking forward to the surprise when they finally saw what was waiting for them.

“Afternoon Bard.” Percy smiled, wiping his hands on a rag and coming to stand with him at the front of the class.

“Percy.” Bard smiled in greeting before turning to the class. “Percy here is who all of you owe for this surprise.” Bard grinned and all of his students were peering at the cage and trying to work out what it was, even Thranduil was looking at it intently. “Rules first, no one moves beyond this point unless given express permission and accompanied by either myself or Percy. If anyone does the lesson is over instantly.” Bard said in his firmest voice, the students nodded solemnly and he trusted them.

He raised his wand to remove the covering on the cage and couldn’t help throwing a wink back at Thranduil before he did. He waved his wand and pushed off the covering, it made the Hebridean turn on them and let out a roar followed by it spitting flame at them, but they were out of reach. The sounds of coming from his students and the questions being thrown at him already made him grin.

But then he turned around and he saw Thranduil.

He saw him running backwards tripping over his own feet and falling to the floor, clawing at his throat like he couldn’t breathe, face stricken with panic, eyes glued to the dragon and suddenly Bard knew without having to ask. He knew how Thranduil had gotten his scars.

“Thran, Thran, look at me. Thran.” Bard called, shoving his way past the students and kneeling down in front of Thranduil and trying to block the dragon from his view. His pulse was racing and he wasn’t taking in any air in his shallow breaths, he was having a panic attack.

With a flick of his wand he shielded the dragon from sight again and silenced it, croucing in front of Thranduil and cupping his face in his hands trying to get him to focus on Bard and only Bard, by his eyes were glued to the cage and it was like he couldn’t even hear that Bard was speaking.

“Percy take the students back to the castle.” Bard said quickly but Percy was already corralling them away. “Shhh, Thran look at me, look at me.” Bard said gently but his words weren’t getting through.

Bard scooped Thranduil up, surprised by how light he was despite his height and clothes and carried him away from the dragon and away from the students, he knew a quiet spot at the edge of the forest. He knew Thranduil wouldn’t want people to see him like this.

“Focus on my voice Thran, focus on me.” Bard whispered into his ear, holding him close and Thranduil’s fingers were digging into his clothes but his breathing was still frantic. “Shhh, I’m sorry Thran I didn’t realise, but it’s gone now. It’s gone.”

“It hurts.” Thranduil gasped and Bard knew he was talking about his scar, maybe even back when they happened and it broke Bard’s heart to hear his voice so wrecked.

“Listen to my breathing Thran breathe with me. Can you breathe with me Thran?” Bard asked gently as he sat them both down his back against a tree, Thranduil’s back to his chest, holding him tight and rocking him very slightly.

“T-trying.” Thranduil said and Bard knew he was, he was trying to match his breathing to the slow and steady movement of Bard’s chest but he was still shaking his head, his face turned into Bard’s neck.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bard cooed into his ear, voice soft and comforting, stroking a hand through his long silver hair.

“It hurts.” Thranduil said still shaking in Bard’s arms and Bard could feel the tears against his neck.

“Where does it hurt?”  

“E-everywhere. My f-face.” Thranduil gasped, but he took a sharp breath and stilled in Bard’s arms when he pressed a kiss to his scared face.

“Where else?” Bard asked after pressing a line of kisses down his face, he could feel Thranduil start to calm in his arms.

“M-my neck.” Thranduil said and Bard pressed kisses along those scars as well. “My shoulder.” And there, but then there were robes in the way so Thranduil told him his hand and Bard kissed the mottled flesh there before claiming Thranduil’s lips with his own in a grounding kiss that seemed to make Thranduil melt in his arms.

“Thank you Bard.” Thranduil said much later in the night when they had finally made it back to the castle, Bard seeing him to his chambers after Thranduil had refused to visit the medical wing.

“I should be apologising not thanked.” Bard said, reluctant to let Thranduil’s hand go from his own.

“You didn’t know. I hadn’t told you. I chose to be there, it wasn’t your fault.”

“I don’t want to leave you alone.” Bard said quietly, cupping Thranduil’s scarred cheek and brushing his thumb across it.

“I don’t want you to either.” Thranduil whispered back, and Bard knew he was more shaken by what had happened than he was letting on, but he smiled at the invite and as Thranduil tugged him into his chambers with him. “Stay with me.”

“Of course.” Bard breathed, leaning in to kiss his lips again, he would never get tired of the taste.

He held Thranduil though the night, he saw he had been right when he had predicted that the scarring ravaged most of the left side of his body, he pressed kisses over it all and felt Thranduil relax more into every single one until he finally fell asleep in Bard’s arms.

In the morning he was woken by lips on his and warm fingers dancing over the muscles of his chest. It was a good way to wake up.

“Bard.”

“Hmm?” Bard answered sleepily, peeling his eyes open and wondering how Thranduil looked so good.

But Thranduil must have lost whatever it was he was planning to say, or he just decided it was unnecessary, be then he was being kissed again and a long and elegant body was being draped over his own as their kisses grew hungrier.

It was an exceptional way to wake up, he woke up that way a lot after that, most mornings in fact, and when he didn’t, well, it was usually because he had woken first and was busy kissing the lazy blonde next to him awake instead. 

 


	130. tango-ing barduil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Christmas present for the beautiful and obscenely talented [drawingoddities](http://drawingoddities.tumblr.com/) that is inspired by her two glorious drawings of Bard and Thran dancing, that can be found [here](http://drawingoddities.tumblr.com/post/125730838047/working-through-my-doodle-requests-1-bard-and) and [here](http://drawingoddities.tumblr.com/post/129461185552/aaand-colored) , a pair of drawings which I love with my whole heart. Merry Christmas sweetie!
> 
> Rated: M

 

“I need a new partner.” Thranduil demanded, stalking into Elrond’s office at the dance studio.

“You just got a new partner Thranduil.” Elrond sighed, not even bothering to look up from his paperwork.

“I don’t like him. I need a new one.”

“What on earth is wrong with Bard?” Elrond asked, a little of his exasperation showing.

“He’s not skilled enough.” Thranduil whined, although he would claim it was a dignified whine.

“Yes he is.” Elrond snorted, it was a most unbecoming sound.

“Then he’s out of practice.”

“So practice.” Elrond shrugged and Thranduil did his best not to seethe at his friend.

“He’s scruffy.” Thranduil complained, he did not mention that he rather enjoyed how scruffy he was and found his scruff of a beard distracting because he kept imagining what it would feel like against certain places.

“He cleans up for competitions just fine I assure you.” Elrond told him, throughout this whole conversation he still hadn’t looked up from his work, it was highly irritating.

“But – ”

“Thranduil! You’ve been through every other dancer here, Bard is the only one who even seems willing to partner you, I am not giving you another one. And if you deliberately run Bard off then you will be completely partner-less and won’t be competing in the end of season competition.” Elrond told him, voice annoyingly firm.

“Ugh!” Thranduil grumped before stomping out the office and back towards the ballroom.

Bard was out of practice, and he was scruffy. And he was infuriatingly attractive and the last thing Thranduil needed when he was trying to dance his way to the gold medal was to be distracted by the way his partner’s eyes fucking twinkled or how they were pressed up against each other every which way possible.

When he got back to the room Bard was waiting in he had pulled his hair back into a messy bun and was laughing that gorgeous lilting laugh down the phone, probably to the three adorable children he kept talking about.

For gods _sake_.

“Now that sour expression can only mean Elrond refused to give you a new partner.” Bard grinned as Thranduil walked imperiously back over and he hung up the phone.

“How did you know that was what I was going to ask?” Thranduil griped, not even worried about offending Bard because the man seemed determined to like him.

“You’re not as hard to read as you would like to believe. Plus everyone told me you would try.” Bard grinned that stupid grin and Thranduil had no idea why he was so damn happy about it, or why someone like Bard even liked ballroom dancing.

“We’re going to dance the tango at the competition.” Thranduil announced, redoing the braid in his hair that had started to unravel itself with deft fingers.

“Oh are we now?” Bard asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes.”

“To be honest I’m surprised you trust me with such a dance.” Bard teased, Thranduil hated to be teased, it was sending tingling sensations places he didn’t want them.

(Well he did it was just bloody inconvenient that Bard was his damn dancing partner).

“If I decide you’re too dire we’ll switch to something easier.” Thranduil sniped, Bard just laughed that laugh again.

“I’m sure I can handle it. I’m sure I can handle you as well.” He added with a wink and Thranduil scowled to prevent his blush. “Now, how do you want me?” Bard grinned, stepping onto the floor.

Thranduil was forced to scowl even harder.

“We’ll just see how much you remember first.” Thranduil said, turning and marching over to the music player, putting on a simple tango beat to start before returning to Bard.

He was not expected Bard to have one hand behind his back, pulling them _so close_ but not quite touching, leaving that tantalising slither of space between them, and to start swaying them both to the beat of the music. Thranduil would have bitched at him expect every coherent thought seemed to have left his brain. He worked pretty hard to keep his face as impassive as possible.

Bard smelt _really_ good. All earthy and for want of a better word _manly_ and it would be hard enough to keep his hands off him, let alone being forced to put his hands on him and be expected t control himself.

He hated Elrond.

“See. I’m not so bad.” The bastard murmured in his ear like some salacious secret with his hand seeming to burn through Thranduil’s shirt on the small of his back.

“I suppose I’ve seen worse.” Thranduil griped and then regretted it because there was hot air on his neck as Bard huffed out a laugh.

He had seen worse of course, everyone was worse, for all that some of his other dances were rusty and in need of a serious polish, Bard was apparently a natural at the tango.

Thranduil wondered what other kinds of dances he might be a natural at.

Perhaps the horizontal tango.

Thranduil was thirty four years old, he should not have to work this hard to prevent his body from having an inappropriate reaction. He would have slapped Bard when his teeth ‘innocently’ grazed his ear if he weren’t busy melting into a puddle of goo and having to focus on not quite literally falling over and keeping to the steps. 

“That’s enough for today I think.” Thranduil most certainly did not squeak, stepping gracefully away from Bard at the end of a sequence that had had Bard’s scruff raking gently over the skin of his cheek in an agonising way. He was either going to end up having a very cold shower or a very very hot one this evening.

“Really? I had you down as the kind of dancer who would happily go all night.” Bard grinned and Thranduil knew that that double entendre was entirely deliberate, he had to scowl again because he would happily go all night with Bard. “Or am I not as hopeless as you feared?”

“With my help we may manage not to embarrass ourselves.” Thranduil muttered, of course what the reality was was that they could probably turn up to the competition right now and take the gold right before Bard took him in the hotel.

He really needed to get his head in the game.

“From you that is practically a compliment, so thank you.” Bard grinned, packing away his stuff and Thranduil absolutely did not look at his rear when he bent over to get his bag.

“Don’t let it go to your head.” Thranduil smirked in response, he was finding Bard’s smiles more than a little intoxicating.

“I wouldn’t dare.” Bard winked at him again. “See you in a few days.” Bard said happily before disappearing out the studio door.

Thranduil usually liked to practice all day, but Bard had three kids and a full time job and if he was being perfectly honest they both knew they weren’t going to need more than four sessions a week to win with ease.

Six weeks of this was going to be absolute torture.

He moaned about Bard to Legolas for a good three hours that evening until his son told him that a) he needed to get some friends his own age to whine about his boy troubles to, and b) to stop being such a coward and do something about it.

If Thranduil stuck his tongue out when his son turned his back to go upstairs it was only because he had consumed two bottles of wine.

Thranduil went in to each rehearsal with a resolve that he would refrain from thinking about Bard as anything other than his latest inferior partner.

That resolve rather spectacularly crumbled the moment Bard pulled him close again and they started dancing.

 _Why_ had he chosen the tango? It was like he wanted to punish himself.

Having said that he’d never known the dance to feel quite this sultry before. He’d also never not lead before, but Bard just took control so easily when they stepped onto the floor, he pulled Thranduil in and started moving them before Thranduil could even think about who was going to lead and then he was so too wound up in the sensuality of the way Bard was moving them that he didn’t even _care_ that he wasn’t leading, it didn’t even seem to matter, they were just moving together in perfect harmony.

Thranduil did catch Elrond smirking at him from the doorway at one point as Bard spun him and had him pulled tight against his chest and Thranduil’s eyes might have fluttered a little.

“Have you decided which tango we’re going to dance at the competition?” Bard asked him, voice set far too low and far too close to his ear. For the love of god his lips and scruff were practically rubbing on the shell of his ear.

“Does it matter?” Thranduil would happily kick himself for how breathy his voice was, he was not normally this easily seduced. He was usually the seducer in fact.

“And here I thought you were a perfectionist.” Bard said and Thranduil knew the tango was an intimate dance but honestly those lips were basically against the skin of his neck.

His neck had always been a weak spot.  

“I am.” Thranduil bit out to avoid his voice coming out breathless again, Bard just chuckled against his skin and led them both flawlessly round the next turn.

“Then are you saying we’re already perfect?” Bard teased and to be honest it all seemed pretty infuriatingly perfect to Thranduil, such as the way he fit against Bard, that was pretty damn perfect.

“I’m saying the specific dance we chose doesn’t really matter.” Thranduil grit out, trying to save his slip.

“In which case will you let me chose?” Bard grinned, and Thranduil cursed inwardly as Bard turned him and they moved in tandem, just a breath of space between their chests, their only true contact the hand on Thranduil’s lower back although it felt like they were connected at every point.

“Did you have a particular one in mind?”

“We seem pretty good at this one.” Bard mused but they both knew that was a lie, they were very good at it.

Thranduil was fairly sure they would be very good at whatever activities they might get up to together.

“Shall we stick to this one then?” Thranduil asked, trying to sound ambivalent and forcing his voice not to hitch, the small space between their bodies was just making the whole thing more tantalising than if they were touching.

“Depends.” Bard murmured, their heads so close to touching just not quite.

“On?”

“Whether or not you’re enjoying yourself. I’d hate to put you through a dance you won’t enjoy.” Bard was teasing him again, trying to make him admit he liked it, that he liked dancing with Bard.

“Enjoying isn’t the right word.” Thranduil’s voice was strained, he’d be enjoying it if it ended on the floor with little to no clothing. “But I don’t want to stop.” That was the wrong phrasing for sure and the silence that followed was palpable.

“Then I guess we won’t stop.” Bard’s voice was hot against his skin and they continued to dance.

Rehearsals were some new and horrible kind of torture like which Thranduil had never experience before. He had also never experienced this amount of frustration and cold showers since he was a teenager.

“We should start practicing in our competition outfits.” Bard commented one evening as they were leaving the studio.

“Yeah.” Thranduil agreed.

He most certainly should not have agreed. It made the torture even worse.

Bard in a slightly open white dress shirt that had the sleeves half rolled up to reveal muscled forearms with deep red suspenders and well-tailored black trousers was completely indecent.

They weren’t going in for any of the glitzy costumes and sparkly waistcoats this time – not that Thranduil didn’t have a soft spot for all that stuff too – but they had easily agreed on something more casual, more…intimate. Almost like they could just be dancing alone in their living room, a prelude to something else.

Thranduil’s hair was braided in a luscious and loose braid draped over one shoulder, Bard’s sat in an artfully messy bun (Thranduil had made sure to make it artfully casual). They looked good, no one was going to be able to deny that, it was going to work well for the competition.

Unfortunately it was also very much working for Thranduil in their remaining few rehearsals.

There was one point when Bard was holding him in a dip and letting his lips hover just over the skin of his neck when Thranduil was about half a second from whimpering and tearing Bard’s shirt off, but then he was pulled up from the dip.

“You’re blushing.” Bard, the bastard, was smirking at him. Thranduil had practically given up attempting to maintain his cold veneer during rehearsals now, he figured he could always just say he was committing to the dance or some rubbish.  

“It’s hot in here.” Thranduil grumbled, he tried not to love the way Bard’s eyes were twinkling quite as much as he did, physical interest was one thing, but his feelings were increasingly _emotional_ which was even worse than just being attracted to the man’s face and body. Of course the bastard had to be kind and funny and endearing and refuse to take his shit as well as a good dancer with a great body.   

“Indeed it is.” Was then whispered into his ear and over the course of these rehearsals Bard had managed to make Thranduil feel like his ears were some kind of erogenous zone from the amount he murmured into them and dragged his lips along them.

That evening Legolas told him again that he needed to get a grip (on something other than a wine bottle) and just ask Bard out (Thranduil had decided it was a matter of principle that he didn’t, though he was finding it increasingly difficult to remember why he had decided that) and then Legolas managed to distract him from his Bard problem by telling him that he had a boyfriend named Gimli and Thranduil had to despair in his son’s taste in boyfriends for the whole evening instead.

By the time competition day came around the next week Thranduil was beginning to lose his mind (or if you believed Legolas already had lost it). The tension between him and Bard seemed to physically crackle whether they were dancing or just _near_ each other, and Thranduil had absolutely no idea why Bard hadn’t kissed him yet but he was pretty sure it had something to do with not being the first to admit defeat. Legolas gave him an exasperated look whenever he tried to explain that he hadn’t made a move because he wasn’t going to be the first one to do it and therefore lose.

Thranduil really didn’t want to lose the damn competition because he couldn’t focus on the steps rather than Bard.

Then again, since they’d started practicing together Thranduil hadn’t really needed to focus on anything other than Bard, and Bard never seemed focused on anything other than him either.

“Nervous?” Bard asked, materialising next to him and looking devastating in his outfit. Thranduil knew he looked sensational as well of course, he could only imagine what they looked like moving together so very close.

“No.” It was true, he never got nervous about competitions, but of course that didn’t mean Bard didn’t make him a little bit nervous.

“Think we’re gunna win?”

“Undoubtedly. I’m your partner after all.” Thranduil smirked, taking a sip from his water bottle and scanning the other competitors.

“Aye, you are rather wonderful.” Bard said with a soft smile before wandering off back to their things, leaving Thranduil to stare after him and start imagining things like waking up in Bard’s arms and cooking breakfast together as well as being thrown against a wall which was highly inconvenient.

They both watched all the dancers in other events and the ones before their own and Thranduil was almost certain they had it in the bag so long as he could refrain from doing anything stupid one last time, like knocking them both to the floor and having his way with Bard the moment he felt hot breath ghosting alone his neck.   

“Ready?” Bard murmured as they took their starting positions, that strong, warm hand resting on Thranduil’s lower back, that enticing slither of space between them at every other point.

“Yeah.” Thranduil breathed back, it felt like they were alone in the studio again, no one mattered but each other.

They started dancing when the music bid them, moving in perfect harmony, they started with that small space between them until Bard pulled them flush together as they started on the faster parts of the dance. He felt Bard’s tongue on his hot skin when he was dipped and he shivered in his arms, their heads resting together at the temples when he was brought back up. He let his lips drag against Bard’s cheek before he was turned and his back pressed against that strong chest as they moved together.

They moved seamlessly and sensually between the faster steps of their dance, turning and spinning and dipping together rhythmically. Bard brought him up from the final dip and they were both breathing far heavier than the exertion from dancing should be causing as they finished the dance the same way they had started it; moving in tandem with that provocative little space between them, steps becoming slower and slower until they were finally still again.

Breathing hard Thranduil was vaguely aware of the applause around them but he was far more aware of the soft lips pressing a kiss to his neck and deliciously scratchy scruff that came along with it. He whimpered and threw his arms around Bard’s neck, turning his face to capture Bard’s lips in a searing kiss right there in the middle of the dance floor.

Apparently they won but by the time that was announced they were already back at Thranduil’s house finally tearing the clothes off of each other.

 


	131. the boat that rocked au

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Christmas gift to the flawless @elfandbowman, who told me a while ago that she craved a The Boat That Rocked au <3
> 
> Rated: T

 

Bard had absolutely no idea how he had ended up on this ridiculous bloody boat. He had no idea what decision it was he had made that had lead him to this point in life and he had no idea what had possessed him to say _yes_ when Bofur – notoriously kooky Bofur of all people – asked him if he wanted to see the boat.

Bard had never actually left from that trip, he’d moved in instead, although right now he was beginning to wonder why he’d made that sensationally bad decision.

“You did _what?_ ” Bard growled, Gandalf looked entirely unfazed.

“I convinced Thranduil to come back.” Gandalf said again, scowling at Bard like he was talking to a particularly stupid child that he didn’t like at all.

“ _Why_ would you do that to me?” Bard griped, scrubbing a hand over his face and contemplating the pending return of his ex. Maybe he would swim to shore instead.

“Didn’t have anything to do with you actually. The government is tightening up on us and banning British companies from advertising on pirate radio, I needed to think of a way to make it worth their while to continue to advertise on here. Bringing The King back will do that.”

“Please don’t call him that.” Bard groaned, he hated that nickname.

“For goodness sake Bard you’re the only one _without_ a stupid air name, and Thranduil was the most popular DJ we’ve ever had by a long way. We need him.” Gandalf said and Bard’s logical mind understood but his heart was feeling more than a little betrayed.

“Right. Well. Okay I get your reasoning and I won’t hold it against you. I’ll be leaving tomorrow morning, he can have my airtime and I’ll just leave.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous Bard. And from what I remember Thranduil was the dramatic one not you.”

“It’s not dramatic. Oddly enough I have no desire to be trapped on a boat with my ex.” Bard grit out, itching to go pack his bag right now.

“You never did tell me why it ended.” Gandalf pried and that wasn’t even subtle.

“That’s because it’s none of your damn business.” Bard grumbled, he didn’t even bloody know why it had ended, all he knew was that he woke up and Thranduil had disappeared from the boat the next morning without so much as an ‘I’m sorry’ leaving Bard fucking heartbroken and with nowhere else to go. 

“It was what, six, seven, years ago now? Grow up, you’re not in your twenties anymore.”

“No, I’m in my thirties and too tired for this shit.”

“Bard we both know the only reason anyone is on this boat is because they don’t have anywhere else to go.” Gandalf said and it was brutal but it was also true, they were the definition of a motley crew, but then again, it was pirate radio so what did anyone expect really?

“I’ll find somewhere.”

“You already have. Besides, Thranduil knows you’re still here, maybe he wants to see you. No way would he have taken me up on my offer if he didn’t want to see you. I’m not exactly offering him any money.” Gandalf snorted, none of them had any bloody money, Thranduil had always had plenty anyway.

“That doesn’t mean I want to see him.” Bard pointed out. He couldn’t help thinking about his perfect face and whether his beautiful hair still fell past his shoulders or if he had cut it, Bard hoped he hadn’t and that thought just made him not want to find out even more.

He didn’t want to care what Thranduil looked like now because he didn’t want to care about him at all.

“I’m not letting you off the boat Bard.”

“I’ve always been a good swimmer.”

“Bard Bowman stop being absurd. How about this; stay on the boat for a month, if you really cannot stand it I’ll kick Thranduil off the boat.”

“Or you could just let me leave. He doesn’t have to go.” Bard said and he hated how he sounded like he still cared about that asshole.

“He’s abandoned the ship without a damn word before. My loyalty is to you before him.”

“Could have bloody fooled me.” Bard grumbled, though he did genuinely appreciate what Gandalf had just said. “Fine. A month and that’s it. When does he get here?” Bard asked as he apparently needed to start mentally preparing for a month of torment.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“GANDALF WHAT THE FUCK!” 

 

Bard was torn between waiting on deck for Thranduil’s arrival with everyone else and staring at the horizon impassively so that he could be seen to be rising above it all, or hiding below decks and avoiding Thranduil like the plague like he actually wanted to.

He ended up on deck because nobody cared about what Bard wanted anymore and Bofur had made him. Bard stood far away from the ladder onto the deck with Thorin, which was petty but he really did not care at this point. He should get a medal for being up here at all.

At least it wasn’t a surprise that Bard was not ready to see Thranduil again, he knew full well he wasn’t ready to see him again, not that that helped much with the fact he felt like he’s just been kicked in the fucking chest when he finally saw him.

He was still the most beautiful person Bard had ever laid eyes on.

Bard was seriously considering throwing himself into the water and swimming back to England when Thranduil caught his eye and he found himself steeling his features instead. He looked straight at Thranduil with as blank an expression as he could manage for a few terse moments before turning and walking away.

He was pretty proud of himself for that.

He was less proud of the way he then locked the door to his tiny room on the boat and curled up under all his blankets and tried not to cry.

He was pretty sure it would hurt a whole hell of a lot less if he only knew _why_ Thranduil had disappeared that morning. Bard had loved him and Thranduil had successfully broken his heart and made him feel like a dirty little fling.

He should have ignored Gandalf and left at first light because how he was supposed to survive a month of feeling like this he had no idea.

Dinner was…interesting (fucking awkward and horrible), apart from Beorn who was on air at eight and didn’t like socialising much anyway, they all ate together. When Bard had arrived they had all taken turns cooking, but when it became clear that none of them actually could cook Bard had taken over before he was poisoned, and since joining the boat Bilbo and he had started to share the kitchen duties.

For the first time since Bard had joined the ship, there was total silence at the table apart from the sound of eating. Thranduil was occasionally stealing glances at him, Bard knew because it had always made the sin on his neck tingle when he did, but Bard was stoically staring at his dinner.

“Well this is awkward.” Kili muttered at dinner and Bard and Thranduil sent him matching glares, apparently neither of them felt that was a necessary comment.   

“I’ll finish this in my room.” Bard mutter, standing up and snatching his plate from the table, walking out of the mess.

“What the fuck happened between you two?” Fili apparently did not know how to wait until he was out of earshot. Hopefully the question had made Thranduil squirm.

Everyone had always assumed they’d had some kind of a tiff before Thranduil had run off, but that wasn’t true. They’d fallen asleep cuddled together as they always did except Thranduil was gone the next morning without even leaving a note.

He hadn’t even told the other that there hadn’t been an argument of any kind, he’d just let them believe it and refused to talk about Thranduil at all. Maybe because he felt like a complete idiot.

Bard managed to avoid Thranduil for the whole of the next week, which was a serious achievement, even if he hadn’t been remotely subtle about it. If he saw Thranduil coming he turned around and blatantly walked in the other direction, if he went into a room and found Thranduil there Bard left as quickly as he had entered, he even muted the speakers in his room when Thranduil was on the air.  

In the second week of Thranduil’s unwelcome reappearance in Bard’s life, he knocked on Bard’s door and Bard immediately slammed it in his face.

He really didn’t want some pointless platitude just so that Thranduil could feel better about himself and make his life on the boat easier.

However, after the door slamming incident Thranduil seemed to have decided to make it his mission to get Bard to talk to him. Though why he was Bard couldn’t say, last time he’d been keen to get away from him instead.

Thranduil would ambush him in corridors and Bard would walk away completely ignoring whatever it was he was saying, Thranduil would make sure the only seat available at dinner was next to him so Bard ate in his room, he came and found Bard when he was reading so Bard started listening to music in loud headphones while he did. He had even tried to corner him while he was on air and stuck in the radio room, but Bilbo had kept him out with a glare.

On the third Monday it seemed he was in for another corridor ambush. Bard sighed and started walking in the other direction as calmly as he could.

“Bard wait, please let me talk to you.”

“Why?” Bard spun on his heel, it was the first time he had responded to anything Thranduil had said, he had enough of it all. “What could you possibly have to say?” Bard demanded, staring Thranduil down, Thranduil looked startled, he hadn’t expected Bard to suddenly respond.

“I…”

“You what? Are you sorry? Do you regret it? Do you want us to leave the past in the past? What mindless platitude do you fancy giving me to try and make yourself feel better about it?” He didn’t usually get angry, but he as now, hurt was fuelling his anger and he knew he was shouting, he’d never shouted at Thranduil before, he didn’t like it and he couldn’t stop.

“Bard I didn’t mean to– ”

“To what? To leave the ship without a goddamn word to me? To make me wake up alone and find out you were gone without a word. I thought we were happy! I loved you and you let me think you felt the same and then you were gone like I was nothing more than some dirty fling you’d had! _Jesus Christ_ Thran you broke my fucking heart, and the worst part is, it still bloody hurts. So you’ll excuse me if I don’t want to exchange niceties in the hallway.” Bard was yelling, Thranduil looked like he didn’t know what to do with a yelling Bard, he had never yelled at him before.

“Let me explain, I, I was – ”

“Thran! I don’t want an explanation anymore! It’s too damn late! You’re too late!” Bard stormed off back down the corridor and he knew Thranduil wasn’t following him this time.

Bilbo came to see him later, it would seem pretty much everyone had heard him yelling, it seemed they’d finally gathered what had happened between them after years of wanting to know. Bilbo had bought chocolate with him and a friendly face, Bofur came later and tried to cheer him up, it didn’t work but he appreciated it all the same.

Two days after the yelling incident Fili and Kili came crashing into his room where he had been trying to get an early night.

“Ugh, fuck off you two I’m trying to sleep.” Bard groaned, burying his head under his pillow, only for one of the pair to grab the pillow and toss it aside.

“Bard turn your speakers on.” Kili told him, scrabbling around his room to try and do it himself.

“No. And get out.” Bard growled, even if he wasn’t trying to sleep he wouldn’t have turned them on because it was between nine and eleven in the evening and that was Thranduil’s slot.

“You don’t understand, you have to hear this.” Fili insisted, and there was a victorious noise as the brothers found the switch and the room was filled up with Thranduil’s voice, tinny through the crappy boat speakers but no less beautiful for it.

“I swear if you two don’t turn them off right now –” Bard’s anger was bubbling up again, he was angry with Thranduil and he would happily be angry at the brothers as well if they made him.

“Bard! Just shut up for a sec and listen!” Kili cut him off, and Bard was about to bodily remove them from his room and do it himself, but then he did hear a part of what was being said and paused.

“-yway, it’s not often I admit to being wrong, or scared, or anything less than fabulous really because well, I’m not often any of those things, but back then I was. I was scared of how much I felt for him and like a prized chicken I ran away without a word. I don’t think I’ve ever been more ashamed of myself or regretted anything more fully. That was seven years ago and I still love him and three days ago he shouted me down in a corridor for what I did – he’s never even raised his voice before, I didn’t even know he could shout really – and I deserved every word and every word made me flinch because he’s right, my apologies don’t matter, they’re seven years too late.

“It made me realise just how much I still love him, I think I’d been in denial before. So convinced he would eventually warm up to me again and forgive me that I didn’t let myself worry about just how deep my feelings go, or what happens if he hates me, which he should, really. If I was a good person I think I would want him to hate me, so he can be happy with someone better than me, but I’m not that great a person, because I don’t want that. I’d give everything and anything I have just to get him to look at me like he used to, I am a beggar even for his glares and shouts, at least then he is looking at me, speaking to me.

“So there you go, you all keep asking. Why I left and why I have come back. It’s all because I’m in love with a man who finally has the good sense to hate me.”

Thranduil didn’t say anything else, he just put on the next record like he hadn’t come out on live radio in the middle of the damn sixties. It was _Nights in White Satin_ , Bard loved this song and Thranduil knew it, they’d both always loved this song. It felt like it was theirs.

  
_Nights in white satin,_  
Never reaching the end,  
Letters I've written,  
Never meaning to send.  
  
Beauty I'd always missed  
With these eyes before,  
Just what the truth is  
I can't say anymore.  
  
'Cause I love you,  
Yes, I love you,  
Oh, how, I love you.  
  
Gazing at people,  
Some hand in hand,  
Just what I'm going through  
They can understand.  
  
Some try to tell me  
Thoughts they cannot defend,  
Just what you want to be  
You will be in the end,  
  
And I love you,  
Yes, I love you,  
Oh, how, I love you.  
Oh, how, I love you.  
  
Nights in white satin,  
Never reaching the end,  
Letters I've written,  
Never meaning to send.  
  
Beauty I'd always missed  
With these eyes before,  
Just what the truth is  
I can't say anymore.  
  
'Cause I love you,  
Yes, I love you,  
Oh, how, I love you.  
Oh, how, I love you.  
  
'Cause I love you,  
Yes, I love you,  
Oh, how, I love you.  
Oh, how, I love you.

Bard wasn’t particularly surprised that he was crying by the end of the song, though he wished he wasn’t. Fili and Kili had the good sense to leave without needing to be told.

The problem with being angry is when you get too tired to hold on to that rage and is disappears. All you’re left with is a lot of hurt and weary bones. That was how Bard felt after listening to Thranduil speak and to that song of theirs. He wasn’t even angry any more, he was just tired and hurt and he wanted to go home, only this was supposed to be his home. Though it hadn’t felt that way for quite some years now.

With his anger gone it felt like he had nothing left but how tired he was and an old hurt that had never healed.  

Bard worked hard to keep his show lively, but outside of that he looked and felt drained, everyone noticed but none of them said anything, he appreciated that. It took a full week more until Thranduil tentatively came to stand beside him at the rail of the boat. He didn’t tell him to go away and he didn’t leave himself, he just did nothing. There stood there looking out at the quiet sea for a long while before Thranduil finally spoke.    

“I’m sorry.” He said very quietly, Bard shrugged.

“Doesn’t really matter.” Bard sighed, it didn’t matter because Thranduil couldn’t go back in time and stop himself from doing it any more than Bard could stop loving him even now.

“I was scared and I ran and then I was too embarrassed to come back. I thought you must hate me.”

“I tried to. You broke my heart.”

“If it’s any consolation I broke mine as well.”

“A little.” Bard said before sighing deeply. “I don’t hate you. I don’t even know how to hate you.”

“You should.”

“I know. But I don’t.”

“I love you, I know I never had the bravery to say it, even when you were so much braver than I. But I do, and I did and I never stopped and never will.” It was seven years late, it was the words Bard had wanted to hear since he had met this infuriating man and he hated that they had to be tainted by what had happened.

“I missed you every single day.” Bard said sadly, shaking his head wistfully, even when he knew he should have hated him instead.

“I hated myself more every day.”

“You love yourself.” Bard snorted, he didn’t know anyone more vain than their ‘King’.

“I used to. Now it’s just a cloak, a mask.” Thranduil said, Bard had always known when he was lying and right now he was being starkly honest. “I left and hurt the man I love. How can I not hate myself? I shouldn’t have come back now, not after this long, even that was selfish. I’ll leave, I’ll tell Gandalf and I’ll be off the boat by morning.”

“Well, at least you’re telling me this time.” Bard said, he was forcing back some tears, he knew in that moment he didn’t want Thranduil to go, not again, he wanted them to try and fix it. They at least had to try.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come back.” Thranduil’s voice was very quiet and he was starting to walk away, Bard’s hands were balled into fists, his nails biting into his palms.

“No. You shouldn’t have. Not if you were just going to leave all over again.” Bard said gently, watching as Thranduil slowly turned back to face him.

“You want me to stay?”

“Yes.”

“But why? I, what I did was…” Thranduil shook his head, face filled with regret.

“I still love you because apparently I am a total moron. And I don’t know what I want. But I would like some time to figure it out.” Bard told him, he saw the hope spring to life in Thranduil’s face.

“You still love me?” There was a smiling tugging uncontrollably at Thranduil’s pink lips.

“Only because I am a total moron.” Bard griped, it made Thranduil laugh, he had forgotten how much he loved that sound.

“I will spend every day making it up to you Bard.” Thranduil promised, and Bard decided he believed him.

“You’re damn right you will. And I _ever_ wake up alone again – even if you’ve just gone to the bloody toilet – I will throw you off the stupid ship myself.” Bard was trying to be grumpy, but Thranduil was beaming at him and it was always hard to be anything but happy when Thranduil was beaming at him.

“You will have every right.” Thranduil was biting down on his lip in that way that he always had when he was going to smile too brightly.

“I’m not guaranteeing anything.” Bard said, even though if he was being honest he knew this was going to end with Thranduil curled up in his arms like he used to be, he just hoped it stayed this way again.

“I know.” Thranduil nodded quickly, expression a little dampened by reality once more.

But then Bard kissed his cheek and Thranduil looked like he had just handed him the moon.

 


	132. The Great Goat Conspiracy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: 
> 
> "Noooo, of course I don't mind the goat. Why would I mind the goat?" - Barduil, set in Middle-Earth?
> 
> Rating: T

 

There were certain things that Bard expected when entering into a relationship with the Elven king.

Bard was fully prepared for Thranduil to have a wardrobe larger than his old home, and Thranduil’s general prissiness over his hair was scarcely surprising, just like the fact that Thranduil well and truly despised mornings was not unpredictable either, and that Thranduil would spoil his children rotten had been a given from the start, and even if the wine consumption was a little startling it wasn’t exactly _unexpected_ , (he had used to collect the barrels after all).

The goat was a new one though.

Bard would never have predicted that being with Thranduil would lead him to one day walking into his own bedroom and finding a goat of all creatures happily munching on his bed linen.

His _bed linen_ for Eru’s sake.

The culprit was either Tilda or Thranduil, and even if it was Tilda, he was blaming Thranduil’s influence anyway.

“Uh. Thranduil. Why is there a goat in my bedroom?”

“ _Our_ bedroom meleth nín.” Thranduil called up the stairs, as if that was the main issue to address in what Bard had just said. Evasion was Thranduil’s favourite tactic when he knew he’d done something Bard wasn’t going to like.

“Thranduil, why is there a goat in _our_ bedroom?” Bard sighed, not hearing Thranduil’s mumbled response (and he knew it was mumbled on purpose because Thranduil had no problem making his voice carry over battlefield’s, let alone up one flight of stairs).

Bard sighed again and scrubbed a hand over his face, deciding to deal with the more immediate problem (that being that the goat had moved onto chewing up one of his pillow’s now) and get an explanation from his wayward husband once that was dealt with.

It took a lot of groaning and frustrating swearing from Bard, and a lot of offended bleating from the goat, but eventually Bard managed to get the animal downstairs where he could put it right in front of his troublesome husband and where the goat could no longer eat his bedding.

Thranduil gave him his best innocent look (which after five years was _still_ not losing it’s effectiveness, much to Bard’s chagrin), but Bard stared him down, and Thranduil did have the good decency to finally look sheepish when the goat took a hearty bite out of the armchair.

Bard glared, Thranduil look at least marginally guilty and the goat took another munch out of the armchair.

“Bard my heart I found a goat wandering far too deep into the forest and when I mentioned it Tilda said she had always wanted a goat. Do you mind?” Thranduil finally asked, as if said goat hadn’t been discovered devouring Bard’s belongings.

“Noooo, of course I don't mind the goat. Why would I mind the goat?" Bard replied, every word dripping with sarcasm, at least Thranduil had the good grace to wince.

“I’m sorry Bard, I’ll replace everything he damaged I promised.” Thranduil stood, lacing his arms around Bard’s neck and pressing a quick but affectionate kiss to Bard’s still grumpy expression.

“It can’t stay here.” Bard pointed out, he couldn't take the relentless destruction, not to mention the fact that indoor, inhouse even, was hardly a suitable place to keep a goat.

“Oh but Tilda will be so disappointed!” Thranduil protested, Bard forced himself not to let his resolve weaken at the thought of his youngest’s big sad eyes.

“I’m not the one who gave her a goat without checking if she could keep it.”

“I thought it wouldn’t be a problem.” Thranduil sniffed a little haughtily, but Bard just rolled his eyes, well used to all of Thranduil’s favoured methods of persuasion.

“Yes, well that was before the goat - ”

“ - Barry, Tilda named him Barry.”

“ - Before _Barry_ proved himself to be partial to eating his way through my home.” Bard pointed out, refusing to react to Thranduil’s pout. “Why can’t you take him back to your palace? I know that’s where you take all of the rest of the animals you rescue, and Tilda would still be able to see him.”

“Because he would be the _only_ goat Bard honestly.” Thranduil answered, as if Bard had just suggested something entirely outrageous. “The creatures I find and bring home all belong to the forest, elk and deer and rabbits and birds Bard. A goat would feel awfully out of place there. Whereas here, in your charming city of Dale there are donkey’s and sheep and _other goats_ Bard. Dale is the only kind option for the poor creature really.”

Bard eyed the so called ‘poor creature’, Barry bleated at him. Bard did smirk as Thranduil failed to notice the animal take a chomp out of the bottom of his robe.

“What are you smirking at?” Thranduil asked, suspicious of Bard’s sudden demeanour shift as he bit his lip to stop himself from chuckling.

Bard didn’t bother to answer with words, just flicked his eyes to Barry again. Thranduil’s own eyes went almost comically wide when he noticed what the goat was doing, letting out a really worryingly high pitched shriek, jumping to his feet and yanking his robes out of the way.

“Well obviously he will require some training.” Thranduil noted, watching the goat sternly. Bard marvelled at how the animal could get away with attempting to eat Thranduil’s clothes and still have the elf wanting to keep him. Or rather, wanting Bard to keep him for Tilda.

“You train dogs Thran, not goats.”

“Nonsense Bard, any being no matter how dimwitted can learn some basic things.” Thranduil replied, before the elf got a wicked look in his eyes and smirked at Bard. “I mean look at how far you humans have come.” He quipped, face breaking out into one of those beautiful smiles he kept hidden far too often as Bard growled at him and swatted him on his maddeningly perfect rear, which only left Thranduil laughing musically.

There was a pause as Bard regarded the goat, now watching him back as it chewed on Eru only know’s what it had gotten it’s chops on while they weren’t looking.

“I’m not saying yes.” Bard started, Thranduil already beaming at him as if what he had really heard was a resounding ‘we’ll keep him forever!’ from Bard. “I mean it Thranduil I’m not saying yes. I’m saying there will be a trial period. You and Tilda will train him not to eat my house if you want him to stay here, and one of you will have to build him a pen he’s not staying in the house.”

Thranduil was nodding continually as Bard spoke, smiling at Bard in that way that made his chest swell, it was a shame that the world never got to see that smile, but selfishly Bard was pleased it was reserved for their family, it made it more special somehow.

“Thank you thank you my love! I knew I married the right man.” Thranduil threw his arms back around Bard’s neck and rained kisses down on Bard’s lips and cheeks and jaw.

“Don’t bring random animals into the house without checking with me first though.” Bard grumbled, bringing his arms up around Thranduil’s trim waist.

“Of course not, I promise.” Thranduil said, drawing Bard into a long kiss that involved far too much tongue to not be in a bedchamber.

“Don’t make me regret this.” Bard warned as Thranduil pulled back to catch his breath.

“Never.” Thranduil smirked, ducking forwards to slot their mouths together again, his hands starting to wander inside Bard’s shirt.

“We should take this upstairs.” Bard suggested, slipping his hand’s down to stroke low on Thranduil’s back.

“Mmm.” Thranduil hummed a little dreamily as Bard moved his lips onto his neck, to the spot he had discovered long ago made the Elven King’s knees weak. “Or there’s a perfectly good table right here.” Thranduil suggested, voice dipping low and sultry, and with the way his elegant hand was teasing him over the front of his trousers Bard almost agreed.

But then the goat saw fit to remind them of his presence with a loud bleat.

“Yeah.” Bard huffed, grabbing Thranduil’s wandering hands. “I’m not doing this in front of a goat. Upstairs.”

“I’m inclined to agree.” Thranduil muttered, leading the way and glaring at the goat for the first time. He was fond of that table.

Over the next few weeks Tilda and Thranduil made honest progress with the goat (and Bard kept getting scolded by the pair of them for calling it the goat rather than Barry), building it a pen for outside - even though half the time Tilda had the infernal thing trailing her around in the house anyway - and teaching it not to eat furniture or clothing. Bard had to admit that even he was begrudgingly fond of it, now that it wasn’t eating his things all the time. And Barry really hadn’t gotten his teeth on anything truly important.

These were the thoughts passing through Bard’s head as he put on his light summer coat. His favourite summer coat, regardless of what Thranduil’s said about it.

“Thranduil!” Bard yelled, slipping on his favourite light summer coat and finding a large, suspiciously goatlike, bite right out of the shoulder. “I have changed my mind! You cannot keep the infernal goat!”

Bard set off on a run, tearing straight past the guilty goat and heading for where he heard his even guiltier husband giggling in the distance (though Thranduil would of course deny the accusation that he _giggled_ ).

Thranduil had always hated that coat.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE! HUZZAH!
> 
> In just over a month I will be the proud owner of a degree in Classics and Ancient History from Durham University!
> 
> Tis good to be back <3

**Author's Note:**

> You guys should all check out all this amazing art btw:
> 
>    
> [For chapter 13 (Tilda braiding Thranduil's hair)](http://physiquement-intelligent.tumblr.com/post/109805040602/a-little-something-inspired-by-the-fic-a-thousand)  
> [For chapter 50 (Thranduil turns to stone)](http://curmudgeony.tumblr.com/post/109879100597/grieve-for-thy-dead-in-silence-like-to-death-most)  
> [For chapter 67 (Bard makes a phone call)](http://pinkbomberjacket.tumblr.com/post/113387764113/hello-came-thranduils-low-melodic-voice-bard)  
> [For chapter 69 (merman!Bard)](http://merinia.tumblr.com/post/111705931275/fanart-for-thrandythefabulouss-merman-au-this)
> 
>    
> And finally, if you have a prompt, it needs to be dropped in my askbox on my tumbles [here](http://obithefabulous.tumblr.com/ask)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Reflexions (Photographer!AU)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3243818) by [froggy_freek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggy_freek/pseuds/froggy_freek)
  * [Undercover](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3273359) by [froggy_freek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggy_freek/pseuds/froggy_freek)




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